A Bloody Smile In The Dark

A final song, a last request. A perfect chapter laid at rest

Some men dedicate their lives to making sure they leave a mark on the world and are remembered fondly by as many as possible; some others, on the other hand, are perfectly content with enjoying the present moment in spite of what they'll leave behind.

Unfortunately there are also a few forgotten ones who fluctuate from the first and second category, permanently unable to decide. The lack of peace and the amount of disturbance this causes them, quickly become a cross too heavy to bear. Some are strong enough to carry it with them to the finish line not worried about the bruises; however the majority isn't as fortunate as they would wish to be. That's when not only do the bruises become okay, but an inexplicable crave for something more awakens, supposedly out of nowhere.

Peace leads to cooperation; cooperation leads to solidarity; solidarity leads to stability; stability, like it or not, leads to lackluster monotony.

Some forfeited souls prefer revolution, chaos, madness.

Teamwork is a beautiful thing if you're able to form one; never been a fan of it.

Come to think about it, there exists another kind of group work. That of one's self. Inhabiting a single mass of flesh can be a real struggle when you're not good at paying rent. Too much room for so little heart. Desolate rooms can't avoid echo. And you're never careful enough with words, remarkably so when you're not warned of the consequences. Nobody can damage you as much as yourself. Besides, once you hit rock bottom, there's no coming back up the same. If you're lucky to resurface.

Nothing's scarier than an empty mind that can't stop spinning. Too much and nothing at all don't mash well together.

"Ok. No more of this. You've done enough damage. Snap out of it, come on!"

This is not alright.

I keep seeing human-shaped shadows show up out of the blue after every mind drift. It takes me a while to shift the focus back to reality. It's like i'm stuck on a fine line between life and death for a moment; the dreaful bit being how louder and louder the voices and noises are getting. All in all i don't think i'd have a hard time accepting flipping the page completely. I feel so fickle and full at the same time when i'm on the other side...As if i owned all the knowable..All the truths...

Tomorrow I'll keep a beat and repeat yesterday's dance

What should i do now? Call Dr. Woodward? Dr. Yo? Dr...well..null.

Breathe.

The room isn't too big, which is actually very nice. There's a big ol' comfy bed to the right and, to my utter delight, a private bathroom in front of it; It'll turn out helpful for sure. The wardrobe can contain just my two things but it's fine. There's even a small table with two chairs in the back, merging blandly with the walls. They really enjoy all sorts of yellow. Funny how the hotel's logo is everywhere; a long black dragon with its tongue out moving upwards on a blank background. Figured it'd be another volatile given their name, but to each their own. And yes, i consider dragons volatiles.

The small balcony is definitely the best part. Maybe it's the melancholic aura hovering above me or maybe my inability to make myself feel anything acceptable, but i'm suddendly miserable at the inevitable notion that this hunch of paradise won't be permanent.

Next thing i know i'm on the floor in a pool of assorted fluids.