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It was like returning from hell. Nothing has a meaning above. You can't compare.

Percy and I were only enough. And enough is nothing.

We struggled and struggled, two bodies smashed again each other, just trying to survive. Trying to cope.

There was nothing to cope with. You try to vent to somebody, but all you have is each other. You can't vent to the problem, especially when it goes both ways.

Tears blended into our faces, trying to let the rain clear it all away

Rain doesn't remove burdens.

Sitting in the bath, just ready to drown yourself because you've seen hell, what good can bubbles do against the certitude of death.

By some point, life can't get any worse. You hit rock bottom and thought, 'I can't get any lower'. But then quickly you are wrong and there is a drill in the rock, pushing you into the lava.

You have hit the very bottom. If you start to dig more, you start to go up. And that's what we did.

Still, two bodies. Two bodies who had been shattered, shattered into smithereens of smithereens. Two bodies with issues on top of issues, covered in dirt and grit inside and out. Two, sweaty burdened bodies.

Two bodies who loved each other.

Two bodies who couldn't get enough of each other.

Two bodies who loved each other more than they could comprehend.

They rose together. Through the muck and grit, through the disaster they had made.

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black winged angels // pjWhere stories live. Discover now