speaks-with-no-mouth

[speaks-with-no-mouth]

Vibrant colours spread across the canvas. Reds, yellows, blues, purples, and greens. A set of cascading paint, flowing freely down. A beautiful sunset of red and yellow tones sets the scene. Green trees reach over the sky, tall and thin, short and stocky. Blues and purples layer the serene lake, the sun and trees reflected in a blurred image. The canvas was done, the paint wet. Turning for just a few seconds, she dropped her brushes in the cup of water. Turning back, pawprints played across her canvas. Her painting ruined. The culprit stood to the side, large eyes catching hers. "Callie!" She whined at the calico cat. The cat meowed. She grabbed a new brush, and signed the canvas. Standing up, brushing her knees, and grabbing the ruined painting. She places it back on the easel. "How did you even get in here?" She leans down to pick up the cat. The cat meows. "Okay, we'll go watch Minions again"

[speaks-with-no-mouth]

Carnations littered the pasture and kissed her body as she ran through the field. Sunlight streamed softly, making it a beautiful day. Her yells and screams were lost in the open air as she ran faster and faster. The only thing she could hear was her own heartbeat. Blood pounded in her ears, her head throbbed in pain. Stumbling as she went, she spared a quick glance behind her. There he was, chasing after her. She screamed, it was once again lost in the air. Her hair of gilded gold flowed behind her as she went, the red and black fabric of her sundress followed after. The fast beating of her heart went crazy when he yelled after her. She had to get away. Ducking into the near forest she hid behind a tall tree. Calming her racing heart and ragged breaths, she smiled. She got away. Her quiet celebration was interrupted when he grabbed her. "I finally found you!" He exclaimed. "You always were the best at hide and seek."

[speaks-with-no-mouth]

The sun rises slowly over the horizon. A faded picnic blanket of flannel red lays tiredly upon the bright grass, the breeze blows the grass and leaves in a soft spoken sway. A small cat lays atop the blanket, of calico colour with rested eyes and silk paws. The birds chip soulfully, a musical tune brushing against the gentle wind creating a mystical sound. The sun raises farther with a bright reflection swimming in the lake of sapphire. Crickets chirp in their shrill voice, a calming presence that mixes with the musical birds. Sunkissed is the land, with a bright summer day, a gentle start, in this no mans land. The winds move, the brush sways, the sun rises, the cat lays.

[speaks-with-no-mouth]

Strawberry, the scent of which I associate with my dearest dream. You, the one who which I love and have loved since I've met. The color of your hair, strawberry. A perfect match for your fiery personality balanced with passion. The tinge to your sun kissed face when your face was bright with laughter. Strawberry, your favorite fruit, one which we ate for our first celebration. Strawberry, a scent, a color, a fruit which I can only now associate with you. Strawberry, everything my heart wills me to love and my brain wills me to hate. These fantastic fabulous flambeux that sit in my heart bring me only pain. Strawberry, is you. A thing I can think of no longer.

[speaks-with-no-mouth]

The world was darkness. An inky black void that swallowed all color and life before it could even reach my eyes. The world was darkness.

It had a texture like no other, almost like a described heartbreak.

The world was darkness, before it was light.

My world lit up when you entered. An extraordinary extravagant sign to point me towards my soulmate. There was color. The sky was a beautiful bright blue with mixed fluffy white clouds. The sunset was the most gorgeous show of an array of colors, sending tears down my face as I saw it for the first time. You were the best thing that ever happened to me, sending color careening into my most macabre world. The world was color, until it wasn't any longer. You were the embodiment of every emotion and experience I was waiting for, every desire, want, and need. Until you left. A picture perfect world has it's impurities and I was so foolish to have not seen them sooner. For you left me. You left me for someone who was born with color, for someone who was better. You were the one who pulled the curtains back, yet you pushed me back onto the stage and swung them shut. My world was darkness. And then it wasn't.

[speaks-with-no-mouth]

It sucks sometimes. Having to sit at an all-to-loud dinner and deal with your rapidly developing anxiety attack, the urge to just start sobbing, the push of hyperventilation, your breathing. All while holding a conversation with somebody. Talking while counting your breaths in sets of four. In, one, two, three, four. Out, one, two, three, four. Counting the bouncing of your leg to twenty before pausing to make sure your breathing is right. Most of the time you just clock out of the conversation.

[speaks-with-no-mouth]

I always compare my anxiety and depression to drowning. Its because that's what they feel like together. A suffocating endless black void. When you're drowning, you don't inhale until you black out. The instinct to not let any water into your mouth is so strong that you won't open your mouth until it feels like your heads exploding. Even then, you can't stop it. Its a reflex. The suffocating coldness that rests over my shoulders hours on end is never lifted. Water rushes against my mouth, the pressure against my brain and lips is so agonizing that I have to let it in. All the emotion. All the anger. All the sadness. All of it gets pushed down and locked away as I bleed my thighs. The beautiful ruby blends inconspicuously with my red pants. The veil is only able to be lifted when I'm wearing my red pants, and even then, only for a short while. Afterwards the weight on my shoulders gets heavier, like Atlas holding the sky, I hold it on my shoulders unwillingly. But like Atlas, I deserve it.

[speaks-with-no-mouth]

Breathing escapes me, leaving me a mess with desperation for air. My hands are shaky, my legs are restless. Sometimes my whole body twitches.

Its getting worse.

It becomes even more difficult to breath, to take in air and send it out.

My shaky hands and restless legs are only calmed with pain and bloodshed. Sometimes the pain is mutilation of my hands, ripping and tearing at the skin of my fingertips. Sometimes the pain is a razor gliding across my thigh, three thin lines of blood seeping out, skin falling away.

Many days come where my hands, legs, and lungs cannot be consoled. Cannot be saved. Twitches fill my existence, pleads to see my quivering hands lay on deaf ears and seem of little import. Focusing becomes a chore, for all its worth, it always has been. Attacks of oxygen deprivation keep me away from all, trying desperately to inhale. Depressive episodes sneak up on me. More so than usual. They get more difficult to hide, easier for others to notice. They just take it as me being tired, or pissed. Their assumptions make me tired and pissed. Its a hassel keeping up a cheery facade. It hurts to hear what they say to my true faces. I can't help it that it hits me. I can't help it that I can't focus. Can't sit still. Can't smile. Can't breathe. The worrying and shaking and faking is suffocating. Oh gods I can't breathe!

[speaks-with-no-mouth]

The echoing cacophony drowned out all else. Bouncing on walls, and rearing itself for the final blow. An ear splitting screech sends forth a brain scrambling pain. Thoughts could not form for the loudness that surrounds. Jumbled and twisted, halfway to my lips before pain and noise cut them off. With the noise came all else. The lights were far too bright, as if standing next to the sun with eyes peeled open. Never dimming even when my eyelids tried to protect me. Too soft, too hard. All touch seemed overwhelming, clothes seemed to scratch upon my skin. The air grates against my uncovered arms and felt too foreign, my sense of feeling long away, somewhere in the cold vastness of space. My mouth was dry, saliva seemed to escape me as I drank, and drank, and drank. Bottle after bottle. Water seemed not to quench my thirst, only sending my brain screaming from the feeling of it sliding down my throat. It was all too much. I couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't see, couldn't feel. MAKE IT ALL STOP!

I shout and scream, pleading for help. No words pass my lips. The day has darkened and I welcome the darkness of my room. My breathing stutters and I feebly chase after the last drop of air. Soon everything clocks out. The darkness turns, an eerie feeling lingers as all senses leave me. My brain triesdesperately to stay clicked on. My last fleeting thought, barely pushing past my lips in a whisper. "well, I asked it all to stop didn't i?"

[speaks-with-no-mouth]

Numbness. Everything is muted. I cant feel anything. It's as if I'm under water. A deep pressure against my head as I struggle to focus and pull myself up. Everything is muted. Sounds are distant with the ever present scent of dinner being cooked gone, muted. A pillowy feeling of drowning. Desperately trying to pull myself out I try to focus, try to smile, to laugh. People look at me and ask what has got me so pissed. My answer never changes. I say, nothing. Their answer never changes. They say, stop lying. I cant help but get angry with myself. A selfishness falls over me as I pin my thoughts to a wall. I just want to act how I feel. Is that so hard to ask? Why is it everytime I act somewhere out of the range of what they conceive as 'normal' for me I'm consequently questioned and then yelled at for telling lies. Muted. Everything is muted. The rush of adrenaline pumps through my head, heart blaring in my ears. Hyperventilation racks my body as I try to get a hold of myself. The anxiety subsides and everything is muted. Muted. Everything is muted. I quite wish it wasn't.

[speaks-with-no-mouth]

Numbness is one which I am quite acquainted with. All I feel is numbness. Pain has become numb. Love, happiness, anger, sadness. I cant feel anything anymore. Why cant I feel anything!

My hands shake when I see a blade, desperately wishing to hold it and drag it across my neck. Blood will gush out as I attempt to speak and people will try their damndest to plug the wound, but nothing. Will. Happen. The blood and lack of oxygen will fight their own race to see which kills me first. My own curiosity will lead me to figure out one day. If my own hands dont beat my curiosity to the knife.

[speaks-with-no-mouth]

I would say I enjoy pain. Most of the times it's just an excuse for me to joke about hurting myself, hoping someone will notice, will say something. But I get nothing. I believe that I have become so attached to pain because it's the one constant, the one thing in my life that stays the same. Pain is always there. My entire being, surrounded by an all encompassing tidal wave of hurt. My thighs littered with scars from razor blades, some deep purple, some faded down to skin. My eyes, pain that causes extreme migraines and nausea, nothing soothes it. My limbs, arms hurt for no reason, legs have terrible pain. My brain. My heart. Pain is the one thing I can always count on to be there.

[speaks-with-no-mouth]

It's like lm drowning, yet I cannot die. Inable to take the much needed breath, to swim up, to scream, to call for help. Stuck in a purgatory of a void. Void of all emotion, filled with only numbness. Exhaustion pulls deeper upon me and I finally fight it back to break the surface of the water. You stand on the pier, looking back at me. You ask, "Why are you in the water? What happened?" A gun held in your hand, aiming at my skull with unsealing fear. You, the one who pushed me over the edge, off of the pier. A loud noise registers before I am once again nothingness. You scream and yell, still holding the gun as you scream at me to live. Why tell me to live, if you're just going to kill me?

[speaks-with-no-mouth]

Anxiety is the uninvited guest of my brain. Clenching my heart with a strong clawed grasp, nails piercing the soft tissue and spilling blood. I cant breathe. Hyperventilation caused by desperation to obtain oxygen and escape from my thoughts. A silent cry for help in a pool of tears in my eyes threatening to fall. Unnoticed goes my shakiness, tapping fingers and shaking legs to calm the quaking feelings urging escape. Unbridled are my thoughts that come in tidal waves with waters filled with drab and sad emotion willing dreadful movements only held back by more conversation. More conversation carries more bitter melancholy into my brain. My thoughts are running rampant, an uncontrollable stampede of thoughts going back and forth and back and forth. Senses muddles with shameless disorganization causing disorientation. My air is running out, I cant see, everything is dark. Where was I. Where am I. A question jolts me back. Answer! I tell myself. A scattered answer to a question I'm sure I didn't hear. I need to leave. I dont wish to be trapped in my thoughts, in my head. A wistfulness filled with hopelessness as no exit makes sight. Trapped in place, I wait. A prey to the predator. My own mind hunts me as I attempt to stay tethered with useless tugs on my hair and pinching of my skin. I am lost once again, in the great waves of the tsunami. My own thoughts consume me. The tears fall from my eyes.

[speaks-with-no-mouth]

Broken beyond repair. So easy to see. An empty shell of the one of whom he used to be. A shattered heart seen between his exposed and broken ribcage. An icy vast wasteland held in cold blue irises. A conversation of empty gestures and fake benevolence. An evident lack of a flaming flambeux placed on its heart pedestal, of which is broken. Broken beyond repair. He had crossed the threshold, of sanity and mania. His mind lost in time, stuck in the past. He had a smile which never reached his eyes, so evidently relearned; it fit with eerie emptiness. His speech was cold with terse sentences. He was believed to be impossible to fix, to put back together. Broken beyond repair. It was on display for all to see, though not deliberately. An empty shell of whom he used to be. Of whom he is no longer. Now lost at sea.

[speaks-with-no-mouth]

Soft silky clouds of white fill the lilac sky. A myriad of flowers lay across the earth. Lillies, peonies, roses, orchids, and more. The vast lake sits within view, bright green water rests calmly. The whimsical noise of chirping and singing birds fills the open air. Turning around a young girl wearing bright yellow overalls runs forth, towards the lake. A boy, almost identical to her, gives chase. Laughter mixes with the singing birds, the flowers sway in a dance. The children reach the lake and begin splashing around happily. Their clothes stay dry. "I told you we could make it work!" The girls exclamation rings out.

"I didn't think it would be like this though" The boy responds, fascination spread across his face. "This'll be our escape Theo!"

The girl skips up to him, spreading her arms out to the world around her. He responds in kind, "We'll be safe, here in our haven."

[speaks-with-no-mouth]

To write a sentence without the letter E:

All sound stands still, a world without an amorous hug of crying, frustration, and joy.