𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝑆𝐶𝐴𝑅, 

𝐼 𝐶𝐴𝑁'𝑇 𝑅𝐸𝑉𝐸𝑅𝑆𝐸

𝐴𝑁𝐷 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝑀𝑂𝑅𝐸 𝐼𝑇 𝐻𝐸𝐴𝐿𝑆, 

𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝑀𝑂𝑅𝐸 𝐼𝑇 𝐻𝑈𝑅𝑇𝑆

【𝑖𝑡 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑓𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑛】

- 𝑚𝑖𝑖𝑎, 𝑑𝑦𝑛𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑦

*＊✿❀○❀✿＊*

HOW far does it have to come before you reach a crossroads, stand there and don't want to take a single step anymore? When everything in you rebels, you no longer have any strength and you are so indifferent to everything.

It simply no longer matters what happens today or tomorrow. Whether something nice or not so nice happens.

Either way,
the joy is gone,
there is nothing left to grab hold of,
no efforts that lead to a decisive result.

When you don't want to be anything anymore.

Just somehow gone, away from everything as if erased. Dead perhaps, trapped in a maze is the only option. Because you can't just leave everything behind here to disappear so that a new life can start somewhere where maybe everything will turn out completely differently.

Melanie's thoughts constantly revolved around exactly such things,
exactly such ideas
that no human being
should ever have
in their entire life.

These voices in the back of your head, these pressing conversations with yourself about how and when to go through with it.

When you want to end everything.

But then the counter-thoughts not to do it come back. Hoping there's someone there to stop you at the last second. Who wraps you in his arms and reassuringly lets you know that everything will be okay.

Who understands you and your pain as if it were their own. Who understands you in such a way that you can read it in their eyes and literally feel how their heart becomes heavy when you empty yours to them.

This constant back and forth with yourself, because hopes clash with hopelessness and human morality stands in the way, not knowing what actions should follow.

But maybe it's just breaking you down.

Or do you only realize that something inside you has been lost when you become obsessed with the idea - the ideal solution - of ending everything?

To imagine the best way to do it without additional pain because such immense things have already happened to you in such a short lifetime.

Because actually, the truth in every person who wants to die is that they don't want it at all.

That they just think they can't find another way out of everything. That you just want everything to be the way it used to be, with a lightness that has turned into a crushing heaviness and you have stopped because you are trying to analyze when exactly this happened.

Everything should be carefree, without suffering and without such eccentric thoughts and this melancholy over everything you see or read.

There should be a normality that never existed before. The wish that you would finally be treated normally and that it would stop hurting so much. So many things should just stop that you get completely confused and a nervous breakdown is on the agenda. Put an end to crying yourself to sleep in the evening because everything just keeps turning and you can't get up in the morning.

That you are afraid to go to sleep because you know that as soon as you wake up everything will start again.

Everything is characterized by a gray indifference that sits like a syringe in your chest to drain you of all your joy. You start no longer looking at yourself in the mirror or putting anything on, because the reasons for making yourself beautiful are no longer there, like your interest in yourself.

You make your daily contribution - perhaps even more than before - when you are no longer there is, something remains of you with which you can be associated. So that fellow human beings can live from the last good memories of you.

But you assume they don't miss you anyway.

Because this disinterest speaks from you while a mirror is held up to you and you think it comes from others and not from yourself.

You don't see that your own pain doesn't disappear into thin air, but remains trapped in this world, because it spreads to everyone else in the environment.

You cause pain when you just selfishly wanted to end your own.

There are hearts broken that are as rare to heal as a bird once somehow sighted somewhere in Japan.

Everything is just because you can't believe - you can't grasp - that you are loved.

To be important to others and have an impact on them. That it's noticeable when you're not there. And that every person has the right to help. Anyone who can't help themselves.

There's an overwhelming sadness that weighs on you when no one seems to notice how miserable you were when you left clues with little things. If the jokes dished out were truths in disguise and the laughter was just another emotion so you don't have to cry.

That you've managed to cover up so well that you're left with nothing
and in this darkness
overlooked by others
you just ask yourself:
Was it even me?

Every person is different from everyone else with all their facets and all their individual perspectives. Fingerprints are the best illustration of this because even twins don't have identical ones. Everyone has different feelings, different histories and a different way of seeing things and recognizing connections.

That's why you never know how a stranger or a loved one is feeling in any situation. He could be harboring such engaging thoughts, just waiting for another reason to present himself to go through with it this time.

Giving a smile can save lives and seeing it returned has a positive impact on yourself. It is the most beautiful way of giving and taking. The most banal experiences present themselves as reasons for everything. They can be so small-minded that you are afraid of tomorrow and then think that dying would be nice. But finding the opposite, reasons to keep going. Goals whose task is to be achieved. They always take a moment longer to think about.

And if you think you don't have any, it's enough to just get from one day to the next. That you want to experience today's sunset, tomorrow the forecast rain or visit the new shop around the corner.

And before you know it, you've already lived for three more days. It would be such a shame for everything to be missed. Such ingratitude, not appreciating what had to happen in the past so that one could even exist in the future.

It goes without saying that life cannot be linear. No matter how the sun. There are months when she is all you see
and months
when you notice her absence
because her presence is
what you desire.

Stairs lead down to simultaneously offer a way up so that everything has its opposite. Like people whose suffering is, in extremely rare cases, divided into two bodies.

They will feel an imperfection within themselves all their lives and will not know how to fill it. Until they meet the person who has this something inside them that cannot be purchased or produced chemically. In such coincident moments one speaks of an equality between two souls, and it is the most beautiful thing one ever thought one would experience.

A perfection that surpasses everything. Because the second you are born, an entrance into this world has opened and at the same time an exit has been created, which therefore determines when your time is up. Like an hourglass that announces your death before it's over. Something that everyone is defenseless against.

Melanie had planned everything down to the smallest detail to speed up her exit. But there was this uncertainty dancing around her, her conflict. Her soul, which made itself known because it didn't want to be erased. This sickening fear and all these nightmares had broken her so badly that sometimes she felt like she was just a pile of gray ash.

James, who chose Melanie of all people to deal with whatever was bothering him. And then ... then there were all these feelings that she couldn't place and that were so different from everyone else. A quickened pulse when she hugged Newt and his smile set off a chain reaction so that she returned it. A whole flood of nervousness combined with a tickling sensation in all parts of the body.

Melanie was irrevocably and undeniably in love with Newt, who she believed was in no way even remotely deserving of him. This made her block out everything that made her feel so good. A fear and a belief that he wouldn't look at her the same way.

And although she had a look of attention in her greenish eyes, it would never have occurred to her that the blonde had once felt the same way.

That one day he had also decided to put an end to everything.

Being in love is an emotion for which a single definition is not sufficient. You're exhilarated when you're high and you miss out on so much that you can fall meters from the sky, breaking hearts and thus your hopes.

Like glasses that fall to the floor and their shards shatter in all directions or joy that evaporates in the wind because things have changed. And loving is allowing someone to hold a loaded gun against their chest while being able to pull the trigger at any time before it can be snatched from their hands.

One thing Melanie was afraid of: having to endure pain in the form of loss.

-'๑'-

Melanie layed in her hammock, letting the midday sun tickle her skin and completely surrendering to her thoughts. A light sigh rumbled past her lips, brushing away what she had been thinking about and deciding to at least say goodbye. At least from Thomas, who had sacrificed so much effort for her with his good heart.

Since the runner had a day off and wasn't in the maze, she quickly found him with Newt in the gardens, who seemed to help him. Insistently, she took her time, biting lightly on the inside of her cheek as different variations of a farewell were running through her head.

Finally she wanted to say goodbye, so he knew how serious it was and at the same time had no idea of her intentions to stop her.

Thomas didn't notice her at first, he was so focused on his work and what the second-in-command had taught him. The blonde, on the other hand, immediately noticed who had sneaked up there and had a bright smile on his face.

And now, when she looked at him like that again, exactly those same expectant feelings came up. Through her the sudden desire to just wait and not do it.

On the other hand, he would never love her back like she was sure he would. Nevertheless, she let it go for now, just waited a little. "Well," the blonde greeted her and leaned joyfully against a bush, resting his arm on it, "can I help you, love?" And despite his eye for these procedures in her and the general knowledge of her, he was clueless about her serious intentions.

About the ulterior motives that she carried with her so real.

She nodded slightly in greeting, studied his smile and briefly looked at the floor because he had so carelessly elicited one from her. "Hello, Newt."

Then she started moving, grabbed a shovel and helped the two boys, who were all she cared about.

-'๑'-

The sun disappeared at the other end of the sky, the opposite direction from where it had previously risen, as Melanie did a few final touches of her work next to the two boys. As she did so, cool air wafted around her nose and the truth that she still hadn't taken a step toward saying goodbye. It was starting to get dark, so another day was over. But she still wasn't done with her plan. She was sure she would just finish them off.

“See you tomorrow,” the blonde finally said to her, rubbing his forehead with the clean hand of his dirty palm. She looked up at him, stopping her movements. “Goodbye,” she replied succinctly. She couldn't say anything more, she wouldn't be here tomorrow. Then it was better not to form an intimate bond to make things more difficult for him.

Newt suddenly let his hands fall to his sides, stuck the shovel into the ground so that it stopped and he could bridge the last few meters to Melanie unhindered. There was an expression on his soft face that seemed dangerously inscrutable and for a second she didn't dare breathe. It was as if he knew exactly what was going on.

“Promise me.”

She was terrified that he had caught her. “What should I promise?”

He knows it, he knows it, he knows it.

“Promise me I’ll see you tomorrow,” he made it clear, which made her heart stop.

He wouldn't say that if he didn't care about me. Or?

Melanie was close to tears, squeezing her hand tightly. "What, why?"

Newt looked at her with a pleading and serious look, holding her face in his hands so she couldn't look away. So that he couldn't see in her eyes what he was afraid of. "Just promise me," he demanded, "Don't do anything you can't undo."

Nothing you can't undo ...