Chronicles of Desire

Wasting Away.

And so the sky becomes a dream.

Without My Angel, my life wasn't only lacking meaning, it also lacked depth. I felt like death was too easy of a solution. I didn't deserve to take the easy way out like that. My Angel deserved that much at least.
The life we had planned out wasn't written in stone anymore. If it was, then that stone would've found it's place in the suffocating blackness of the ocean, unable to resurface without the help that nobody was willing to lend.

I never dreamt because I'm just too busy.

With the moon gone, what is left to catch the sun's rays and light up the beauty of the night? The stars are there, yes, but the frail glow they emit could never even begin to compare to the pale glory of the moon.
Sadly, I could never ponder the true extent of this, as I decided to fully dedicate myself to my work. I didn't have time to share pleasantries with friends. I felt as if the world was closing in around me; I felt as if everyone was out to get me. I felt guilty for crimes I didn't commit; I would've been able to cope, had I not spent my time with my mind occupied with violent thoughts.
I needed an escape.

Waiting for nothing.

Without My Angel to guide me, I knew of no path. I had no direction in life. There could never be another like My Angel.

Wasting away.

I thought my decline would mirror that of The Angle's; slowly creeping in, eventually surfacing itself when I least expected it. But alas - mine was much more sudden.
I felt like I was thrown into a pool of ice cold water, unable to reach the surface, sinking to the depths with no hope of ever seeing the light of day, never feeling the heat of the sun on my face; the chills of dread seeped into my core.

And so the sky, it watched my dreams fall to pieces right in front of me.

Have you ever has the experience where you feel as if your heart has physically been broken? You feel as if you can't breathe, that something is physically pushing down on your chest and grasping with frozen claws that leech the oxygen from your lungs. The worst part is that you can't stop it. By God, I wish I could. For the first time in as long as I can remember; I cried. I cried out for help that I'd never gotten, would never get.