Falling Thoughts - The Tool · 11:34pm Nov 19th, 2015

This third installment of Falling Thoughts is a short story titled "The Tool." If you missed the last installment, check it out here. This story conveys how society hurts the nicest people the most. They only realize what they're doing when it's already to late, and even then it changes nothing. The style I wrote this in is quite a bit different than the one I usually use for my fanfics. I'm sure you'll see similarities, but expect major differences as well.

The Tool
By Dreamscape

She gave her heart out to everyone, gave them her all. She was a helper, so selfless and kind. She always tried to make others happy, even if it was something they did not deserve. She made their lives seem less hectic, more important, and much more livable, even when her own was a mess. Whenever she struggled, no one was there to return the favor. When she cried, she was not comforted. When she hurt, no one healed her as she did for them. To them, she was a tool, ignored, unless, needed, and then used only to put back in her lonely drawer. She was made fun of, discussed in soft whispers and laughs, abused, and ruined. As the years passed, she began to change. She associated herself with no one in realization that she was the tool, but still did her duty when she was pulled from the drawer. As the years past, she rebelled, no longer fulfilling her purpose as the tool. The bitter hearts of others had made her mind just as repulsing. Deep inside though, her heart was still as pure as the day she was born, and her soul still kindred, but she no longer wanted to be the tool. This only made the separation between her and the others stronger. The whispered words only grew louder, less informed, and crueler, all because she would not let them use her. Still considered a tool, she was now useless, and this hurt her even more. All she ever wanted to do was show kindness and have it given back when in need. She never asked for much, and never received anything, and this hurt her. She not only hated herself for this, but the world in which she lived. She promised herself it would all get better, but it seemed as though her life only grew harsher as she grew year by year, those who surrounded her not helping but only making it worse. All she needed was a hand, a hand she would never use as a tool, but appreciate as an equal or greater. This hand, she was never given, but harsh words and treatment were. Already standing upon the ragged edge of a crumbling cliff, it only took another touch to push her over. She was found surrounded by her purity which she had let escape her, along with her broken but beautiful soul. Then, she was surrounded in false sentiment by all that had used her for many unjustified reasons. Although some cried, although some regretted their actions, it was only for days, even hours, because to them she was but a tool, one of many they could find and use again until broken.

Dream

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