[Fernathy]

A good but very dead boy

entry:

x


┌─────────────┐

│
│

Username: Fernathy
Kalon Name: Finchxxxxxxxxx

│
│
└─────────────┘


xxxxxxxxxxxxxxpixel credit

┌─
│
│
│
│
│
│
│
│
│
│
│
│
│
│
│
│
│
│
│
│
│
│
│
│

(ＬＩＶＩＮＧ ＤＥＡＤ!) ─────────

I’m alive. I’m alive. I’m alive.

Thinking. Breathing. Seeing. I’m here, I’m here. I’m alive, I promise. Cloudy eyes. Dead flesh. Cold as a fish. All concealed by my mask. A barrier from the world. No one notices a thing. I don’t let them get close. I don't let them touch me. I don't let them see.

I didn’t like the way they cowered at me. Trembling, afraid. Alarmed by what they saw. And word spread like a wildfire. "Freak of nature—zombie—kill him, kill him!" Mask on.

I look. I retch. I don’t like myself either. Eyes sunken, color fading, hair falling out in clumps. I look awful. But I couldn’t help what happened. All I could do was try to hide it. Mask on.

I am so sorry friends—I’ve grown ill, I’ll say. They wonder why they couldn’t come see me. Too busy, too tired, working overtime, jury duty, mom died. They grow tired of the excuses but I don’t know how to tell them. I need them, god, I need them, but I don’t want them to fear me. Mask on.

I hate what happened. The memories are burned into my brain and I can’t escape them. My rage burns too, hot as flame. Spite grows. My fists clench. I trusted him. I loved him. He killed me. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. No—I still love him. I get it. I was wrong. It didn’t hurt. It didn’t bother me. And the devil laughs; Mask on. Mask on. Mask on.

I hide the truest parts of myself behind a mask. I wish I didn’t, but I can’t stop. I just want to live my life as normal. But it’s been real hard—I’ve been dead for a rather long time now. And it’s starting to show. Physically. Emotionally. The wear and tear of this whole ordeal engulfs me—it’s who I am.

But I don’t want it to be.

The least I can do is wear a mask. It’s comfortable. It’s safe. It fits me well. No one asks me questions when I wear my mask. No ones scared. It helps me. I need it, I need it. Just a little ornate detail to let me forget what happened. To look a little more like my old self, if not a little bit better. To paint back on the smile that I’d lost. To bring back the light to my eyes that I’d lost.

To forget, even if just for a little while,

the underlying truth is that,

I’m dead.