[REVAMP] 𝘾𝙃𝙍𝙄𝙎𝙏𝙈𝘼𝙎 𝙆𝙄𝘿𝙎 • BSD X Reader

. ❝ A BIRD IMPRIS... ❞ ;;

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// Ch. 1 , Prologue

"A BIRD IMPRISONED"
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The shame of sunlight.
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“A BEING DISAPPEARED WHO WAS PROTECTED BY NONE, DEAR TO NONE, INTERESTING TO NONE.”
— Nikolai Gogol,
The Overcoat.

 

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     APART OF ME IS AWARE THAT I CAN NEVER TRULY escape my past. Though the other half, wishful thinking or not, yearns to conceal myself from what there is to offer by this burning reality— to vanquish my entirety off of time. It does not bother me of how in-between I am through it all, for I can only do nothing. I can do nothing, but to watch in some sick amusement.

     Useless attempts were made countless of times to rid myself of tempting thoughts that could end it all, unfortunately, my time has ticked to its last; washing away those hopes in a sandstorm that blinds me of what's ahead. It does, however, bothers me of how little I was spared a molecule of its sand. Had I hastened myself and pushed against my limits, perhaps I would have ran longer. Had I taken gratitude as a virtue, perhaps I would have been shown mercy. Though what's ahead is now nothing but storms of others' time, plenty of it running through the time realm. This vision is left as a reminder of my failure, laughing at me I'm the face of its mockery.

     No, I am not impaired. I believe I am simply very melancholic. Calculating equations and logical studies did not interest me much as poetry did. To leave my academics and run away to write poem after poem is something I have always reached out for, a dream where I never wanted to be waken from. Though I suppose it remains only a dream, a fragment of my childhood. Such an option has never graced my life, it has offered me nothing but dread. This dread has pushed me to continue onwards, though I've always been left to wonder at what cost does it bring that could fit as any sort of joy to me.

     To obey and to listen was never something I enjoyed, I utter in disgust at the image of someone controlling my every action, my every choice. A puppet stringed, a loyal dog being commanded, a zombie doing the bidding of its master existing without its own will. It was and will always be an imagery deemed disgusting and infuriating.

     Such strong objections and claims of thoughts have left me nothing but scrap and abandonment. It is considered foul and ghastly if someone were to stutter a word of their own. This expectation to follow the white flock was always enforced in our lives, because the consequences are dire enough to have you left to die. I cannot even begin to explain these long years I've lived in disquietude at the mention of being abandoned.

     Despite everything, I believe; I hope, that there is an escape from it all. It is a risk proven notable to chance with if you've stopped hearing the ticking indicating your life— when there is nothing left to lose, you might as well perform such daring acts to obtain a sliver of freedom.

     The regret of not accomplishing a wish is something that will haunt you till death. Even if you were in my shoes, you cannot comprehend the nothingness I am inclined to feel for the rest of my life had I not danced with death once.
  
 

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UPCOMING .
"Hello, My Name
is Shifter."

577 words