She didn't want to cry. Because tears were a sign of weakness, but crying for no reason at all was simply foolish. The stabbing, aching presence in her chest wasn't real. It's not real. It's not real. Repeat it till all other sounds fade, till you're reassured that that pain was from you imagination. Don't believe what anybody tells you. Just let me spread, until all your fury and hatred for me is boiling over the edge, explodes, splattering on surfaces and breaking things that are not meant to be broken. Break. Break. Break. He whispers, within the darkness, surrounding her subconscious until everything bright and beautiful becomes tarnished with green eyes and red blood.
I can't - I can't do this anymore... She didn't even have the strength to say that out loud in an empty room, with only herself to blame.
I can't - I can't do this anymore... She didn't even have the strength to say that out loud in an empty room, with only herself to blame.
1 comment:
Hi. Are you here? You used to read my blogs before. I liked that. So here's my new (and only) one.
http://mightaswellfaceityoureaddictedtolove.blogspot.com/
Hope to bump into you in the cybersphere again sometime.
Post a Comment