Since then, all my days were the same.
I had no reason to stay in touch with a world where God has dissolved
into what we call ordinary. I cannot help but wonder at the miracle
of life...but then I see how dried up is this world. It has no soul, no
power, no magik, no hope, no love or friendship.
So this is how one day, while we were
having tea, a tear streamed down my face as painfully as if it were a
knife. He saw this manifestation of depression as rotten and filled with madness. I could not receive a real hug, for every time he would sigh
and ask me if i was done. So then he decided it was a good idea to
strike me. So he did. He rose up from his chair, left the tea cup on
the table and lit up a cigarette. Afterward, he offered me one.
Should that have been a comfort to me? To what was about to happen to
me? How is nicotine going to save my soul and my mind? I'd rather he
had given me poison and get it over with. But that is not how we play
this game. The goal is PAIN. We were supposed to make one another
suffer, for he considered that my pain was not real. Also, he thought
that he cannot be harmed by this unimportant and weak person that is
me. But he was wrong. Or was he?
As he stood up his eyes were bursting
with flames and the heat of a 1000 suns. And my dying scream could
not be heard not even by God, for he has forsaken me long ago... it
was like he did not care at all for me and as he wasn't recalling all
the sorrow we shared. And then i realized, all that sorrow was only
mine to feel in this life of strife. He did not care at all. Not cold
as ice, or cold as a god, but cold as nothingness. That was the
moment when he decided what was going to happen. His life was going
to end for he could not stand to see me suffering and not feel a
thing. But how would he stand knowing he would leave me mourning for
him the time that was to come? Well, a drop of selfishness was going
to take care of that. And this is how it was. He walked out the door,
killing himself in my eyes. He became someone else. Someone i despise
with all my being.
Now, i don't even bother to make myself
a tea , for what good is it to enjoy it all by myself? I cried for
many nights, 'till my soul ran dry and not even blood wouldn't come
out to drown me and my miserable life that was only a replacement for
what you call reality.
In my perfect world there are fields and
forests covered in an eternal autumn. There is a purple sky to watch
over my dreams and delusions. And a tombstone on which my name lies
written in my handwriting. She was hitting the fallen leaves with her
beautiful leg on her way to my grave. Her tears were feeding the red
roses, and her blood was pouring through my veins.
A whisper in the wind: "thou shalt
not rest...."
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