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My secrets are mine to keep. What are secrets?
They are the things we cannot tell others.
I need to share them though. It helps them. It helps me.
Acceptance... that's the final step isn't it?
What am I so upset about? I don't understand how I could stay strong.
But, of course, now I can see-
Despair is how one smiles. A line I made up and always loved. I felt like I understood it. That it was me.
But now, it doesn't make sense. Does it mean a fake smile? A real smile?
I don't know. I don't remember. The crazy little things I make up just, die off.
The crazy little sheep just die off, one by one, until I am dead as well.
Today's key, was wonderful. The key I used as my knife to attack and scar my own sheep was wonderful I tell you.
Absolutely. Wonderful.
The key helped me think. But I have those thoughts I can't read now.
What use is the key now? Maybe you can recover it.
After all, I am just a mad man, aren't I? Crazy. Insane. Is that who I am now?
The dark red paint still fades. The walls seem to he closing in.
It's funny. Dark red means evil. Could the walls, I thought to be as a friend- the one thing I admired the most- be my enemy?
What sheep number was I on? How many did I speak of?
I do not remember. I do not remember.
YOU ARE READING
Counting Sheep
Teen FictionOne sheep, two sheep, This is not helping at all. Three sheep, four- Someone kill me, I must snoop this low. Five sheep, six sheep, I feel tired, but the waters still flow. Seven sheep, eight she- It looks like the sheep hit a wall. I guess eight sh...
