The Pit

I was in a large city on a sunny day. It was warm, but there was a cool breeze. I was walking through the park with someone I loved and saw a flower. It was beautiful and I said, “Wait here.” I went to pick it for her and as I pulled up the flower the ground beneath me shattered like glass. I fell into a pit. The pit was obsidian lined with black diamond. It was round and polished so that I could see the surface in the reflections on the walls. I saw the people I cared about shake their heads and walk away and I hit the floor in anger and sadness. The ground shattered again, I fell farther. I landed and everything was the same except the surface was farther. Now I watch as everyone walks by and ignores me. No one cares that I am here even though it is impossible to forget a giant hole in the middle of the city that you pass every day. Somehow they do it though, and without guilt. I am forgotten and unwanted. I am alone. I told myself before that I don’t need other people. I tried to climb out, but I simply slipped and fell. I went through another layer. It seems I can only get deeper. With each fall my state worsens. I lose more confidence, lose more hope, lose more of all I have. I am cut by the glass and the pain destracts me, it is almost good. I realize now that the glass does not cut me, but I cut myself. I can’t get better, at least not for long. No one is there, no one will help me. I am gone already. So why do I still live, when the only good sensation I have left is pain? When I am unable to move and am swallowed and crushed by the darkness, but at the same time feel nothing, but at the same time feel empty, but at the same time feel all the sadness I possibly could and it burns me, no I burn me, while shivering. I will only get deeper, so why leave this level of darkness, it is the opposite of the connotation of home, but yet that’s what it is for me. The empty, absorbing, dark, hopeless, hellish, lonely, self-destructive pit is my home now. I cannot escape.