Moving On~ COMPLETED

Him~

Everything was obsidian and frosted, comatose, and misunderstood. No term had a twin, and every word that I heard was filled with hostile, acidic myths. Perhaps, I shouldn't have left myself alone and perhaps I shouldn't have pushed everyone away, but this feeling that I felt was everything to me.

I liked a world with no color.

I deserved a life filled with agony.

Now that I was deserted, there was nowhere to be eclipsed. There was no one to hide from, and the thought of that left me lifeless... But that's what I deserved, right?

I was hungry, shaking, and my life was a chaos within my mind. Thoughts of being worth something filled my head as my eyes closed and I drifted off jnto a world that gave me hope.

When I awoke, I was greeted by an old friend. His eyes were raven, hollow, and they drank every ounce of energy from my bones. His arms were dressed with scars and he reeked with melancholy.

"Hello, friend." I said softly, gazing into the eyes of this being. They looked into my soul, searching for any last bit of hope that they could find, yearning to feast upon it.

But there was nothing left.

"I see... I see..." he said. His voice sounded like mine, but it lacked any emotion mine might have had. "I see..." he spoke one last time before walking away, into oblivion. I needed to get ready for the day, but I lie there, staring into my black and white world filled with nothing. Everything around me was wintry, and frigid tendrils ran down my spine. Shivering, I held onto the blankets longer, wishing for a day of spirit. I knew no day of warmth would come, not until my friends left me, but still I held onto the idea of warmth, of hue. I do not mistake this longing for hope, for composure; for hope and serenity are far, far away from me.

Exhaustion drenched my body, and quickly I fell back to my slumber. Did I deserve a life I lived? Did I deserve a world that lacks beauty? Is it wrong for me to wish for a new life with new eyes, that could grasp the beauty of color, of emotion? In my slumber, I dream of an existence with a hole in my chest, without my familiars beside me, and a creation I could not believe in.