Here is a short excerpt from a character i am creating for a novel that i may never get the opportunity to write. I like to allow my imagination to flow by delving into the core of the character by obtaining ideas from my own personal experiences and other fictional characters i have stumbled across.

‘It’s begun again. The sudden spurs of sadness and the heavy knot tightening in my stomach. I feel pain and stress that tears not a hug from my mother can cure. I don’t know why I feel this way, is it school? Friendships? I rattle my brain to pinpoint the pain reason but, there is none. It takes such a toll on me and I always feel like everything I do isn’t enough and that I lack in so much. There are times when the feeling of worthlessness overtakes me, penetrating every ounce of my being, so all the good I see in me evaporates into tiny droplets of petty achievements. There have been worse times, times where vigorous bullet tears or anger and helplessness were no cure to my heavy heart. I can be so engrossed in my sadness that I wish for the worst and for an end and this is where I feel the lowest in life. I put on a facade daily in front of everyone, with a forced smile and approachable eyes but the one person I cannot fool is myself. It is why I am so quiet. I don’t talk as much because, despite striving not to, I unintentionally go off on a tangent of pessimistic views that tire people who eventually repel my negative energy that it all comes surging back into my body leaving me flooded with troubles only I can understand and feel. There are times where I feel such pain that I reach a level of numbness whereby my eyes are incapable of producing anymore tears and I simply lay there, pained and confused but nothing seems to help me feel better in the slightest. I fear reaching out to anyone or telling them this truth because I know it won’t be accepted and will be trivialised and ridiculed into a diluted misconception of emotions portraying nothing but a clear sign of weakness. I am lost. I want to cry but no tears come out as my body is immune to this feeling so I no longer have an immediate retaliation. All I can do it bottle up my emotions, imprison my voice and become part of a the majority, part of the flow of people slaving day in day out with false dreams that will truly be nothing but dreams. I used to be told that sadness helps us appreciate the good thus helps us treasure the good but I feel nothing of that sort other than a feeling of falling down a dark and endless hole, the epitome of despair, with the anticipation of finally reaching the end, to attempt my long climb back up. However, I am yet to reach this end I speak of. The end of realisation, self love, self belief and finally… acceptance.’