"𝗦𝘁𝗼𝗽 𝗰𝗿𝗼𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗰𝗲𝗮𝗻𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗽𝗲𝗼𝗽𝗹𝗲 𝘄𝗵𝗼 𝘄𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝗷𝘂𝗺𝗽 𝗽𝘂𝗱𝗱𝗹𝗲𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂."
Chaos may be the only way to describe Clailea Del Rosario's 9 years of life.
In a nasty divorce, somehow Clailea's druggie mother w...
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Being left with only my thoughts is proving to be harder than I had thought.
Especially since my thoughts are often not the fondest.
My thoughts are like serpents, slithering their way into my glass box full of water, trying desperately to push off the lid I have created with the power of acting, pretending.
A flurry of movement, the serpents glowing in the dark water.
I can see them sometimes, like they go just above the water to where their glowing skin deflects against the water.
Although serpents can be evil, my are they beautiful.
My head is a dance of wiggling serpents, dancing to the music of my thoughts, singing to the sound of the heart breaking pain I bring upon myself.
They enjoy watching my heart shatter, they enjoy destroying my mind.
And I can't blame them, because I do it all on my own.
I am the serpents puppet master, I choose where they go, how they dance, which steps to take.
And most of the time, I choose for them to hurt me, because it's so familiar that it almost comforts me.
To the point I strive for the pain, try and search for it through the endless dark water of my soul.
Endeavor for the gut wrenching stings, but I know I could never find that physically.
The serpents do it for me.
The feeling of static washes over me, and for a second I think maybe my glass box has broken, because I feel as though I could break down.
"-ove it when she wakes up," It's said in a low whisper, and I now realize the voice is Usok.
As he says this, it's in a very low whisper. His voice is so different from the soft spoke, happy Usok I'm used to.
Now, it's sad and low, raspy and harsh as if it hadn't been used in days.
And that brings pain to my heart, the serpents returning again as I blink away from awareness.
