Lachesism

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Lachesism: the desire to be struck by disaster

for Hope

~~~


I'm an adrenaline junkie, suicidal maniac, accident prone extremist. I jump across rooftops and stand on thin ledges and hold the lighter as close to my tongue as I can. I'm a crash test dummy, an experiment.

I want to see the world burn, as long as I burn with it. And maybe that makes me crazy, but at least I'm still living.
~~~

I've been compared to a puzzle missing a few pieces: feel free to shove the wrong piece in the wrong spot, so long as it makes a picture. Who cares.

I like the thrill of feeling like I'm dying without actually being dead. The rush of adrenaline filling my veins, making me feel like I'm an immortal god. So what if there's a chance feeling like dying will actually turn into death. Who cares.
~~~

You've got to want to die to make it to the top. Don't let them know you're afraid. Show no fear and they can't judge you for your sins. Forgive me father. Fuck that. You're the one who that looked me in the eye and tore me to shreds.

My only solace is destroying myself. Look what you've done to your darling daughter. You've gutted her, tossed her out like trash so that she could be found and used as a puppet. She isn't even me anymore.

Who am I?
~~~

Just breathe, just breathe, don't think about the possibilities.

You burn your hand because you still haven't figured out how close to the fire you can be without frying. You cut your cheek because your reflexes aren't fast enough and she's good with a knife. You can't sleep because there are monsters in your head and they're not very pretty.

Just breathe.

Strapped in, eyes closed. Your heart is racing, but is it fear or excitement? You can't feel your hand, your knuckles are white, someone's laughing but are they laughing at you?

Everything shifts, and your stomach drops.

Just breathe.

You don't even have lungs anymore. And yet you feel a sudden surge of "this is probably the best way to die" and this scares you.

Just breathe.

Just.
~~~

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