A Muse and a Poet | Milex

The Tenth of March

March 10, 2016
5:23 AM
Sheffield, England

Five more days. Five. It alarmed me. I woke up that morning, thinking about the number. It meant something to me-freedom, happiness, and love. Everything would become clearer and brighter, and my thoughts would no longer be clouded by the previous insidious thoughts. I would feel normal.

I watched Alex sleep a few nights ago. It was relaxing and blissful. I knew I would miss the way his nose scrunched up or when he would pull the covers up to his nose. His hair was spread out on the black pillow. He looked so warm and lovable. All I wanted to do was snap a picture of him. He hated when I did that to him.

Those hours I sat watching him made me think about my future. If I did decide to harm him, there would be no more staring at him while he slept. There would be no more cuddling with him on rainy, gloomy afternoons. There would be no us. It simply be myself and I.

I never really questioned if there was a heaven or a hell. I believed those two places took place on Earth. They surrounded everyone. Heaven and hell were emotions to people. People inflicted heaven and hell. There was pleasure and pain. As much as everyone hated their hellish days, there would always be something that would make them love it. It was terrifying to think of.

And I sat watching him, and I almost drew him, too. If I did so, it would cause pain. But pain was always enjoyed.