The depths of despair

He was back again

Depths of darkness surrounded him and he couldn't move.

He was only drowning, eyes open and body unmoving. Something kept him there, restrained him and held him tight.

It wasn't fair, the way the past still gripped him and suffocated him.

Dragged him lower and lower, his ankle wrapped by the hands of the past.

Faces glimmered beneath him with wicked smiles and fired eyes.

Familiar voices swam around his head, filled it and made his own thoughts dwindle.

They rose and rose underneath him, soo, their mouths opened wide as if they would swallow him whole.

They had done it before, they took his will to live, his creativity and another ten thousand things.

Why did it always have to be him?

Could he...for ones not have a happy ending?

He had died, his dead body probably six feet under or maybe not even that.

Yet here they were still dragging him down, would they even have given him the time of day?

Would they have mourned him, cried real solid tears for him.

Tears that seemed to fall down on his pale, sunken face.

Or maybe they didn't fall at all, maybe it was just an illusion.

In a swamp of water, how could his own tears be noticed?

Maybe it was his last will to live or maybe it was just a pang of desperation that made him try and get the prying hands off him,hands that dragged him down in the deepest of depths.

He send signals, wanting his arms to move, reaching down to finally swim back up again.

Yet nothing came of it, his hands seemingly rusted in place.

Every second passed, leaving him being pulled farther away.

Not only in the too deep water but the pool of memories that had been tightly closed off.

Yet here they opened by every call off a voice, leaving him experiencing them like it was the first time all over.

Again was it the water that left his back reeling?

Or was it the very fresh, very real emotions that washed over him.

The child in him, the child that hung over him and followed him in every step he made, was in need of love.

Of a pair of warm hands around, telling him that everything would be fine, even though it wouldn't be at the end.

He thought he had gotten over it, years and years of loneliness left him dealing with everything alone. He quickly realised that the tiny part inside of him that wanted to get revenge wasn't worth all, he wanted peace.

But that tiny child, that tiny child hidden deep away, was carved open and revealed.

And with it, the crashing realisation that he still wanted their love, their validation, their everything.

Even the smallest thing would be fine, their smallest smile, their smallest glance or the smallest gift wrapped in delicate paper. TShowcasing their intent was love and that was all he wanted, needed.

He was such a failure, still yearning for things he would never get or achieve

Quilt rose inside him, he had gotten a new life with actual people who loved him but just the thought of love made him weak.

Love from people that hurt him so strongly, he had lost his will to live over and over again

Mere thought of never receiving it made him give up as his eyes fluttered close.

Voices that took over his mind, now whispered him towards a deep sleep.

A sleep he would never wake up from by the way his mind and body embraced it.