It's All The Same

Tired, that's all she felt in that moment. So very tired, she'd been fighting this for so long after all. Tired, mentally and physically, not that it matters. It's all the same in the end. "Just rest.", the demon pleaded. Such an easy yet hard feat in itself. "I'm sorry.", she whispered while backing away. She was scared, not ready. Everything she had and hadn't done, the chance would be wiped away. She didn't want to go yet, she had to stay. She could push past this. Forget, pretend, and everything would be fine. It had to be. "Don't be, you'll be okay.", the angel soothed. Turning around, the girl left the roof of her apartment complex. Went down the stairs, back to where she belonged. Back in her room, to watch something, anything. Read perhaps, maybe try her hand at art again. She'd forget, she always did. She turned on some music, it was too quiet. She never liked silence, it allowed the bad thoughts to swirl around her mind. She didn't like that, she couldn't deal. So like using toothpaste to cement cracks in the foundation, scotch tape to hold together wooden support beams, temporary fixes for permanent problems. She shoved her ear buds in, pressed shuffle on her phone. She had thousands of songs, hours of tunes, at her disposal. Always adding something new, depleting what storage space was left on her phone. It didn't matter, this was important. It's been years, but it's still one of her best resources. Best ways to cope. A memory comes back, turn up the volume, sing along. Digest the words, feel the instruments, until it's all consuming.

That memory never existed, you're just imagining things. Don't dwell on this, don't think about it. Memories, experiences, all pass and fade. Withering away until the only evidence that remains is the pain, trauma, and regret. You can forget those too if you try hard enough, she's not trying hard enough. She gets ready for bed, there's nothing else for her to do. It's dark already, she likes that. She's always been more of a night person, it's beautiful really. The night sky, the moon, the stars, the occasional cloud passing by. So tranquil, peaceful, the streets are empty. Save for a few pets that wander. Streetlamps illuminate the ground below, a few windows cast a warm yellow glow, everything's calm. She turns down the volume, doesn't need it as loud. Closes the blinds, it's one of those rare moments where she feels content. She changes clothes, avoids the mirror, she won't like what she sees. A stranger staring back at her. A hollow shell of what once was, what could've been, and what will never be. She loves sleeping, dreaming, escaping the world she's not a part of, doesn't belong in. Whether that be fact or feeling, it didn't matter. It's all the same anyway. Dreamless slumbers always passed by quicker, that's what it felt like. If she had a choice she'd dream every night. Sometimes she forgets them as soon as she wakes. Other times they slowly fade and turn into fragments, before completely disappearing. Those dreams always disappointed her. She liked the ones that stuck, that she could look back on.

Her favorite was the time she dreamt she was a fairy. The trees were massive, with their pale bark contrasting their vibrant spring green leaves. The moss that speckled the forest was of a similar color. She can still feel how soft the moss was, how the bark felt, when her fingers brushed across them as she flew past. Her wings, a type of butterfly she assumes, predominately pink in color. Splashes of purple and white if she recalls, a dress made of flowers, a flower crown. She swears if she dug deep enough through the recesses of her brain, she'd remember having pointy ears as well. Flying is the ultimate freedom isn't it. Not the artificially manufactured kind. Airplanes, weren't meant to exist. Unnaturally slicing through the air, against the wind. Turbulence isn't a thing for birds, for butterflies. They don't crash, burn, and fall apart. They were meant to be there, to exist. People weren't meant to fly. The closest thing to being free is swimming, or falling. Neither can compare of course. Swimming has it's limits, humans can't breathe underwater, they can only go so far down without help. Fancy wet suits, air tanks, masks, breathers, feels more like cheating. There's nothing free about that. Falling has it's limits too, it might be flying in reverse, but you have to hit the ground eventually. It has a time limit, you can't control the fall, the end isn't free. Those moments right before, when you're still in the air, that's freedom. Suppose that's why skydiving was invented. To feel free without having to give up everything.

Falling shouldn't be like that. Thick uniforms, googles, helmet, parachute, going face first. That's not beautiful, peaceful, it's more cheating. She never dreamt of flying again after that. The closest she ever came to it was sprouting wings. She didn't dream last night, hasn't for a while now. Maybe she has, but just forgets them as soon as she's back in this world. Back to existing. She hasn't stopped to ponder which is true yet, she doesn't care, it's all the same. She lays in bed, scrolling through her phone. Meaningless, a waste of time, it always is. An easily accessible distraction, a band aid. Watch something funny, laugh. See something cute, enjoy it. Check social media, bask in the temporary validation receiving likes and follows gives. Respond, message people, pretend they care, pretend you care. Pretend you're not alone, pretend you're not sad. You have friends, people like what you put out into the world, look at the likes and follows again. This all matters, it has to. It's one of the few things she has left. The internet is toxic, people can be cruel, they love to fight when they have so much to hide behind. The disagreements last for hours, she revels in the attention. It makes her feel seen, noticed, alive. She gets out of bed, still avoids the mirror. It's not like looking in it will tell her something she doesn't already know. She should eat something, she's been forgetting to do that lately. Forgetting, not feeling like, it's all the same. The kitchen is empty, she's thankful for it. It's quiet, she turns down her music slightly, but not off. It's rarely ever off, it's safe after all.

She doesn't like cereal, it gets soggy too fast. Eggs and toast takes more effort than she's willing to put in. Pancakes require measuring and mixing, same for waffles. What's left besides microwaved oatmeal or junk food? She makes a small amount of oatmeal, she's never had much of an appetite in the mornings. Sitting down to eat, her father walks in. She cringes, turns up the volume. She doesn't like interacting with him for very long, especially if she still remembers. Pretend harder, it'll be okay. She'll be okay, she has to be. Good mornings are exchanged. It's clear he doesn't remember, he never does. Or maybe he doesn't think it's of any importance anymore, that it doesn't matter in the long run. He thinks he was right anyway. All water under the bridge, as they say. It's all the same, the results. He tells a joke, she laughs. It's easier to forget when he's being funny. She watches pointless clickbait videos as she finishes her oatmeal. Her mother arrives, she holds back a sigh. More greetings are exchanged before she retreats to the bathroom. She never remembers either. On the occasions she does, she thinks it was all justified, but yeah. All water under the bridge am I right? They're not going to the store today, unless plans change last minute. Good, she doesn't have the energy for dressing up and pretending she's fine in front of hundreds of people. It's a wonder how she lasted in school as long as she did, since that's the case. Before she burnt out of course, before she had nothing left to give.

Before she lost all that potential her teachers and principals raved about. What a shame. She used to pawn it off as the smart kid burnout phenomenon the relatable people on social media always talked about, but she knows it's more than that. Smart kid burnout doesn't start in Kindergarten, festering and chipping away at your soul until you crash and burn in high school. Kindergarten is recess, play time, coloring, three letter words. She never took any AP or college classes, never skipped a grade, went at the same pace as everyone else her age. Those all became an option at some point, she refused. She didn't want that added pressure and stress. She was still struggling to forget things after all. Didn't get a cell phone until middle school, music came much later. Not that music was allowed during class. Anything that was played over the speaker was either some mainstream drabble, or country ballad. Neither appealing to her senses, but she supposed it was better than silence. Most things are, except the new things she'll need to learn how to forget. Those are too loud, too vile, too harsh. She'd take silence any day over that. Though each leads to things that must be forgotten, meaning it's all the same. School was Hell, sometimes it was better than home, but not always. She was alone there, but not the same kind of comfortable alone she felt at home. No, this is the kind of alone you feel when you're surrounded by people. Not a single soul her friend, she didn't know half the people there.

There were a few people she's sat with over the years, all there because of her intelligence. Hopeful to sneak glances at her paper, or even to more boldly ask to borrow it. She always complied, that's the reason she was there in the first place. She'd only had one consistent friend throughout her years. The rest moved, distanced themselves, lost interest. You name it, it happened. She was never surprised, as the smart, socially awkward, and sometimes bullied, introvert, she wasn't exactly the type people flocked to. That one friend? They sat together in similar classes, occasionally ate lunch together. When there was nothing better to do, when no one else had caught that friend's attention. She didn't mind it, how could she? She was just filler after all, nothing more. That's how it always was, how it's always been. She brushes her teeth, showers, changes, then goes up to the roof. She likes it there, it's the one place where she always has a choice. She always makes the wrong decision, she knows it, but that doesn't stop her. Reaching the top of the stairs, she pauses. She knows they'll be waiting for her, they always her. Always there to remind her of what happened, everything that's happened. To once again tempt her to reconsider, not that they push. She has all the time in the world to decide, the conclusion is inevitable. It's all the same. Taking a deep breath, she pushes the heavy metal door open. She immediately sees them there, waiting for her, in the same spot they always are.

She goes to them, they greet her. She looks out into the world, admiring the view. "How can a world that's so cruel-", the demon starts. "Look so beautiful?", the angel finishes. She agrees, thinking it's rather ironic. Yet she supposes if everything was ugly and bleak, it'd be all the more easier to leave it behind. Things are never easy. "It's beauty's one of the things that makes it cruel. Don't you think?", she offers up. They nod, still seeing wisdom in her words even though she's offered the same answer many a times now. Whether or not the answer changes, the direction of the conversation does not, it's all the same. They stew in each others' silence for a while, she didn't bring her phone with her. She never does up here, it'd be pointless. They'd just talk over the music anyway. "Your parents seem to hate you.", the demon comments. She lets out an emotionless chuckle. That's something she already knew a long time ago. "How can they be so angry when THEY created you?", the angel chimes in. Still looking out at the world, she shrugs her shoulders. Being stuck with them her whole life didn't give her the advantage of knowing why they did what they did. Their guess was as good, if not better, than hers. "They created this hollow husk that cowers before the world.", the demon says with distain. They did in fact, but refuse to accept that. Refuse to believe that they could've ruined someone this badly. Pawning the blame off on everything and everyone else, even each other.

"They broke the child they chose to give life to.", the angel cries out. She didn't want to hear this, not again. She tried to move away, but was held in place. Forced to admire the light blue sky, fluffy white clouds, tall grey buildings. While hearing about what an absolute joke her existence is. "You were doomed to fail from the start.", the demon sighs with sympathy. "What a selfish move on their part! To keep you of all things.", the angel huffs. It was quite the self service. Religious parents praying to their God for a child, a little version of themselves they could mold at will. Someone to carry on the family name, someone they could live vicariously through. Displaying all the best parts of both of them, but none of the bad. It was quite the tall order to fill. So you can imagine their disappoint as their child grew. "And you had so much potential.", the demon muses. "What a pity.", the angel agrees. She was tired of hearing about her 'wasted potential', she was tired of all of this. So, so, tired. "They robbed you of a normal life.", the demon points out. She groans, wishing for this conversation to come to an end. "They robbed you of a normal childhood.", the angel sadly adds. She tries so hard to forget, why do they always insist on her remembering? She supposes it makes it easier to come to a decision, the right decision. "Come on, say it.", the demon prods. "They robbed me of everything.", she agrees. This is pointless, she thinks. She knows, they know, it's all the same. What a waste of time.

"Of being a normal person, of living a normal life, of being a normal kid, a normal adult. The yelling, fighting, name calling, at each other, at me. I can still hear the screaming sometimes, in the silence. Being locked away here like Rapunzel, school then home. Never allowed to go anywhere, do anything. Being trapped in this. I missed out on so much, you know? Classmates' birthday parties, hanging out after school, cheerleading, clubs, prom, dates, real friends, an actual healthy relationship, trick 'r treating, driving. I- you know what I'd be doing right now, what I should be doing? I should be at a college, halfway through some degree, with a vague idea of where I'm going in life. I should have a dorm, a roommate, friends. I should be dating someone, driving a car. I should have one of those part time jobs as a Starbucks barista or something. I should be sneaking into clubs with a fake id, getting drunk, getting random tattoos on a dare. I should have confidence, the ability to interact with people without panicking and becoming extremely uncomfortable. I should be able to walk into a classroom without having a panic attack. I should be able to live life without being trapped inside this bubble I've place myself in to survive. I should be able to go one day without using several forms of escapism because I just can't cope with being alive anymore.", she relents. She knows it's what they wanted to hear, they wanted the truth. They wanted her feelings, so she gave it to them.

They smile at her, she gave in. Just like they knew she would. She always does, it's all the same. She deflates, expressing that took a lot out of her. She's so tired. "You wish to escape.", the demon says with glee. "You wish to be free.", the angel giggles. She says nothing in response, only nods. "Let me help you.", the demon pleads. "Let me take you away from all of this pain, and suffering.", the angel begs. She still remains unsure, they can tell. "Just rest.", the demon cooed. "I'm scared.", she admitted. They knew, they all knew, she would agree. "Don't be, you'll be okay.", the angel kindly told her. She nodded and wiped the tears from her eyes, it was time. They helped her up onto the ledge. There wasn't a railing she had to climb over, she was grateful for that. She tried not to look down, that would only scare her. Now wasn't the time to be scared. She turned around, looking at the roof she's come to love for one last time. Her gaze finally falling on the being she's been conversing with. She never did know if they were an angel or a demon, she couldn't tell. Perhaps they were both, either way, it's all the same. "Be free.", they told her. She smiled a sad, broken smile, at them. Before raising her arms, spreading her wings. She took a deep breath, and let herself lean back. Let herself fly in reverse. For those few moments she was in the air, she was free. When she hit the ground, there was a loud smack, and crunch. Everything was black. She sat up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. It's all the same.

Looking over at her alarm clock, she notices she woke up early. She still tired, but what else is new. Skipping breakfast, she rushes to the bathroom to brush her teeth, shower, and change. It's all the same. Before heading to the roof. She likes it there, it's the one place where she always has a choice. She leaves her phone behind again, she always does. It'd be pointless to bring it, when she knows they'll still be there. They'll still talk over the music regardless. It's all the same. She pauses in front of the heavy metal door, takes a deep breath, then pushes past it. She immediately sees them there, waiting for her, in the same spot they always are. It's all the same. She goes to them, they greet her. It's all the same. She looks out into the world, admiring the view. It's all the same. "How can a world that's so cruel-", the demon starts. It's all the same. "Look so beautiful?", the angel finishes. It's all the same. She agrees, thinking it's rather ironic. It's all the same. Yet she supposes if everything was ugly and bleak, it'd be all the more easier to leave it behind. It's all the same. Things are never easy. It's all the same. "It's beauty's one of the things that makes it cruel. Don't you think?", she offers up. It's all the same.