Mon amour | discontinued

part eight

Ares | breathless
Selenophile- someone who loves the moon

•••

{tw— suicidal thoughts, mention of drugs, mention of smoking}

The moon. A light source. Something that shines so bright, displaying the beauty and nature of the world.

In other words; the light in the darkness.

The bright light that provides a navigational system that only some understand, the stars that accompany the moon through the nights that almost seem endless, seeming so small but so big in the reality of things.

It's crazy to think about the universe and it's vast size, the energy and the things out there, it interests me beyond belief.

I don't get much sleep anymore, but I can't say I particularly mind.

I stay up until it's impossible for me to sleep, with the only company being the moon that stays awake with me, Seeing the things nobody has before, the secrets and the lies.

The truth.

The scary truth.

The truth the becomes all the more real at night, when you're left to you thoughts, the thoughts that consume you until there is nothing left. My thoughts were destroying me.

Leaving you breathless. Leaving me breathless.

breathless. breathless. breathless.

Your throat constricting, gasping and fighting for air as the harsh reality caves in on you — crushing you before you get the chance to do so yourself. Before you give into the way out; the way to stop feeling.

I smoke. Cigarettes and Weed.

It's not anything that bad.

The cigarettes that kill, slower then most wish they would.

The drugs that stops you from feeling, making you numb.

All to stop the pain for some time but it's never enough, I always hope it will last forever, that I will be able to block out the harsh reality, but it doesn't work like that.

The accident has me broken, i haven't had a full nights sleep since, the smoke and the flames always visit me in my dreams — well nightmares.

I wanted to die, maybe then i could see my mama again.

I can't count the amount of times I thought about going to the pill cabinet and killing myself but every time I would get to that stage, where I was in the bathroom contemplating my decisions I chickened out.

Asteria and Apollo. 13 and 9 years old when there mama died, they were kids and had to go through that.

They didn't understand.

Apollo didn't talk after the accident for weeks, the fire started in his room and fucked him up. He had to go to speech therapy three times a week, just so we could hear his voice again.

Asteria was at a friends house that night but the damage is still there, she would try and hide it all behind a smile but I could see right through. I could hear her cries from across the hall every night.