I. not belonging

His body no longer belonged to him for he was being torn open like a vicious toy. He was a puppet who had to not have emotions because if you felt somethings during it, you would want to die instantly.

How could he survive was not a question he had on his mind when it was happening. It came after. Whilst he was all alone with only his thoughts, with only his mind. Sometimes he wished he had no thoughts or mind, sometimes he wished he could no longer feel whatever he was feeling.

Because he knew nobody could help him, he tried, he really did, he tried his hardest but nothing happened. Nobody saved him, he could go nowhere.

How could he live like that? He just couldn't. He had to get out.

His touch burned him until he felt like there was nothing inside him anymore but remaining ashes. But the ashes were still hot.

So he coughed and coughed and coughed, but no matter what, he knew that he would choke on them. He couldn't clean him up. He tried so hard to take away that mask of flesh he had but no matter how many showers he took or how hard he scrubbed himself he was still here, standing still.

The bitterness he felt could not equal to the pain and terror that shook his whole body. The emptiness may appease his sorrows but it was only an ephemeral solution. Anyways, it did not help him. Drugs were also a temporary solution, whatever quantity or how he took it, it always shaded off.

Sometimes he wished his memories to also shade off, to become just a vague recollection. But they were as clear as day. He remembered everything, the smell, what he saw, what he heard... the touch.
Just thinking about it made him want to puke, but he always made sure his thoughts weren't deviating too much.

Or he could never live.