blurring the fact and the fictions
while simultaneously fixing myself up
with a girl named panadol
Wilbur sat at the table, furiously scribbling notes and lyrics and stories and poems, whatever came to him. He was tired. Life was hard. What was the point in living? He had to keep up that pretense of perfect child, fearless sibling, loyal friends, smart speaker. He was none of those things. What he was, was tired.
bite the tablet elixir
disintegrate, mouth's a mixer
i think i've lost my mind
He downed a pill, and then two. The pain dissipated slowly and a floating feeling took over him. He gently sank to the cold hardwood floor and laid down. Nothing anchored him but his own body. He didn't want an anchor. He wanted to leave. But his ship wouldn't sail and his boat was moored and his oars were broken and there was no wind. There was no relief. And so, he let himself sink under the waves, salty sea filling his lungs and his chest and his head until he was one with the ocean again, letting the flow of murky teal water guide him. But no, he wasn't really going with the flow. He was there, sinking to the bottom of the ocean, but still doing the tasks life assigned him remorselessly. He just needed to succeed. Then it would be over, right?
Right?
i think i'm dying this time
YOU ARE READING
Pages From My Heart
RandomOriginal writing! I figured I would clear *insert creative title* of my OC and unnamed pieces, since that was mainly a fandom book anyway. I'm not removing them from the book, but I won't be adding them either. This is where you'll find them and new...
