Drowning In My Own Tears Novels & Stories

That she was going to go into bed with the enemy… And there was nothing that I would be able to do to fucking stop it. I let out a blood-curdling scream, before I threw my phone onto the wall, letting it shatter into millions of tiny pieces, all over the floor… Everywhere. Knowing that I was beyond saving now. I was in too deep to even swim. I was drowning. Drowning with hate. Drowning with anger. Drowning with fury. Drowning from heartbreak. I knew from that point…

Letting the water soak into my skin and relax my body. I let myself drown in both the water and in my thoughts. What was I thinking about? Men. All the men I had encountered in my life so far. All the men that have done me dirtier than a pig. All the men that have shown me that I am indeed worthless. Why couldn’t they just disappear? Why did I have to meet them? A tear slid down my cheek. I didn’t even know I had started crying from thinking so deeply. I had promised myself not to cry over a man ever again.

When I reach it, I stare down, feeling hollow. It’s spilled all over the floor. I sink to the ground, my body moving of its own accord, and I scoop some if it up in my hand and drink it. I do it two times before feeling the taste of my own tears mixing in it. That’s when I give up, leaning against the front door. My injured hands cover my mouth as I scream and scream, loud sobs leaving my mouth as I curl into a ball. I’m crying over the spilled soup, my dinner. And yet, I know that’s not the real reason.

I can’t contain it. I unwrap the towel and drop it on the floor. My hands go to my small scars on my stomach. I trail after them with my finger. I grab a glass in the sink and hold my hand out. Tears fall down my cheeks. I have been drowning and still drowning and I can’t keep myself from falling. I have been holding on to the last hope I had in me, but the pain is too much, and I can’t bear it anymore. I tried to fight it, but no one can help me. I’m lost. Too lost to come back. I grip the glass and slit my wrist and all I can release is tears, no pain, nothing. I’m far too gone, and no one can help me. The feeling of helplessness and all I want to escape from this life. Be at peace, a life

I inform them, and they are hesitant. "Please," I beg as my voice cracks, and they leave one after the other. When Aiden leaves and shuts the door. I burst into tears and curled on the bed and sob like a child, like a worthless child. My chest is so heavy as if i had three bags of cement dumped on my chest. It is so heavy that it is pushing and sinking and drowning me in my despair . I am drowning and waiting to die because I know no one is around to help. I drown deeper and deeper until I am lost.

He pressed a fist against his mouth in a failed attempt at reigning in his cries. The sight made my eyes well up and it blurred my vision. "I miss her too," I choked. As strong as I wanted to pretend I was, I wasn't. Not when it came to Alya. "So much that sometimes, I feel like I'm drowning. And I'm so deep underwater that no one can even see me, let alone save me." I closed my eyes, letting all the tears stream down my cheeks and I gulped down a bit of whiskey as I listened to Jayden's gut-wrenching cries.

I watch the blood swirl down the drain and wait until the water runs clear. I don’t even notice the temperature of the water as it scolds my skin. I wash and shampoo my hair. I leave the shower, not bothering with a towel. I wipe the mirror and stare at myself. The first tear falls. A silent sob when I buckle and crash to the floor. I sob for the deaths of my family; they died because of me. They died so I could live, but I don’t want to live anymore. My life is just as fucked up as I am.

I needed to go, and fast. “Calm me down? I—I can’t believe this.” I dove for the pool of water in the floor of the cave. As I swam to shore, I let the tears fall from my eyes, knowing they’d be washed away by the time I resurfaced. A sob lodged itself in the back of my throat, and I was determined to let it die there. Azrael would not see me cry.

When I reach it, I stare down, feeling hollow. It’s spilled all over the floor. I sink to the ground, my body moving of its own accord, and I scoop some if it up in my hand and drink it. I do it two times before feeling the taste of my own tears mixing in it. That’s when I give up, leaning against the front door. My injured hands cover my mouth as I scream and scream, loud sobs leaving my mouth as I curl into a ball. I’m crying over the spilled soup, my dinner. And yet, I know that’s not the real reason.

My sight became hazy, clouded by tears and the reflection of the sun dancing on the polished marble beneath my feet. As the pain deepened, tears rained down my face, flowing freely like a torrential downpour. It felt as if a dam, long sealed, had suddenly burst open, releasing a flood of pent-up emotions. Each tear represented the weight of every heartbreaking experience I had endured. They were tears shed for the countless times the woman I considered my mother had subjected me to beatings. They were tears shed for the irreplaceable loss of my Grandpa. And, most importantly, they were tears of anguish over the futile attachment to someone that never truly belonged to me in the first place.