The Words of an Angsty Teen

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Salt in water, he thought he was smarter than to obsess over love. Because in what world would someone love a two-faced bastard like him?

He was happy, content, satisfied, but still he felt hollow and wanted nothing more to shape shift into his next form. He couldn't get over that desire. He fell in love with Death.

But every time they could've held hands, he retracted his arm right when their bones were about to touch, doubting if the feeling was real, if the feeling was mutual. Because who would love a two-faced bastard like him?

No one. That was his answer. He wondered if emptiness could ache, because his chest hurt. And he didn't know if it was the love he had for death he was feeling or his ending. He just wanted it to be gone.

He asked Death: if I move on, whereto will I go? But Death didn't answer, they were always silent and had no tongue. He began to feel desperate. Their cold hand reached for his and they connected, for a moment Death and he stood still, and so did time.

Then, Death pulled their cloak over him and shrouded him in darkness, not the blue kind of the night, but the comforting one of the end.

A part of Death seeped into his body to replace him, they freed his soul from this wretched world. He felt infinite in the nothingness he experienced outside his body.

And the pain in his chest was gone, and the thoughts disappeared, and the prison's bars melted. He was of no one, not even of the materialistic world he used to survive in, not even of life because he was no more.