There is nothing as all-consuming as guilt. It eats away at you, every fiber, every cell, every bone, drop of blood, every thought that passes through your mind, every resonance of your soul. It echoes, and slams into you twice as hard when it comes back.
A lot of guilt is to be had: guilt of not telling, guilt of telling, guilt of dying, guilt of not dying. Guilt of time. That is the worst. Guilt of being too late.
There is blame. Blame to be given, blame to be had. But blame is so childish stacked up beside all the hurt and pain and years and time that has been endured. Too much has happened, and, at the same time, not enough.
It was never enough.
I was never enough.
And when you wake up one day and realize you're thinking that, congratulations.
You've become obsolete.
Ω Phoenyx
YOU ARE READING
Iris
Paranormal*SEQUEL TO PSYCHE* Phoenyx: Prince of Darkness, last living Canem on earth. He's been in a coma ever since he learned that his sister Iris is alive and well. Familiar to the goddess Aphrodite, he must bow to her every whim, and he will, in time, th...
