WASTE OF SPACE

A Message for Readers: This piece deals with the belief that one is a burden to the people around them and that their lives would be far better if the person was not there. Sometimes, I feel so too, and I have come to realize it is a valid feeling, albeit misleading and often illusionary. And so, to anyone who finds their emotions mirrored in this piece, I hope that one day, you will realize just how important you are to the people around you and that they would never, ever want to part ways with you - you make their world a brighter place just as they make yours.

(Picture from Pexels)

The white walls are thin,

Their voices creep in,

The blood from my wounds

Pools around my feet.

 

I clutch my satin dress,

Twisted fabric in my grip,

As remnants of my self-esteem

Chip away like old paint.

 

‘She is a waste of space,

Like books never read,

And a wilting flower vase

Collecting dust all day.’

 

Murmurs of agreement,

Piercing yeses and yeas:

‘We’d be better off

Without her slithering darkness.'

 

(I wonder.)

Was it the desire for happiness,

Glimpses of a selfish awakening,

The constant insecurity and reassurance,

That sealed my fate?

 

If in this moment,

I was really to disappear,

Would they find the peace

I so cruelly snatched away?

 

(Yes, whispers a familiar voice in my head.)

 

I want to ease their pain

Take away the suffering

Bury myself far and deep

And be an honorable waste of space.