don't touch me, I'm fragile. - frerard

1

Dark.

That was what his life had become, always what his life had been, even when it wasn't for the most part; It always ended with darkness. He remembered the day his life had taken a nosedive into the madness that it was currently, could recall the events word for word even, with crystal clarity. It offered him no comfort though, and honestly he'd rather forget it, but for some reason beyond him, he couldn't. It stayed with him even when he was so inebriated that he could taste colors and see flavors, and haunted his darkest dreams.

It always started the same:

Rain, clear and pure, but skies darker than black, the world around him uncaring and unfeeling.

He remembered how his mother screamed at him, chasing him out of the house with a broken glass bottle, he remembered how he'd cried until his throat was raw and his eyes were red and puffy, how he'd wandered the streets with nothing but a old over-sized hoodie and some shorts, how he'd tugged at stranger's sleeves, asking for any sort of help, but he'd get nothing but a kick to his back. The person usually screaming at him to get lost, even going so far as to chase him, just as mother.
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please tell me if you guys want me to continue this story.

- max