The Breakdown

Chapter 1

Hello there! Lexie here! I word-vomited this drabble while listening to a bunch of Thousand Foot Krutch songs, most of which were slow and sad, so beware! Not recommended if you're happy: may cause a sullen mood. You have been warned...

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Have you ever felt that feeling? The feeling of your mind blanking out completely, of your heart stopping its steady rhythm, of the realization hitting you like a brick while the pressure is too much for your forces and there's just too much to take in; of your knees weakening and of fate laughing of the lovesick fool that you became.

You blink away the tears forming in your eyes, but one still manages to escape. It slowly rolls down your cheeks and once it reaches your jaw, it stops clinging to your skin and drops on the ground. Another one follows her soon, and another, and another, and they eventually form two waterfalls cascading down your face, flowing in unison with your muffled sobs. The pain trapped inside you starts to scratch and bite and kick your already crumbled walls, yet you don't try to protect yourself from the clawed creature. You already know it's useless.

The person causing the sorrow that's eating you from the inside doesn't notice you until it's too late. The damage is already done and there is nothing they can do about it. No one is around them except for that disgusting being that shouldn't even be called a human. Its mischievous grin sends a grimace on your face and you start to wonder how they could have left you for that.

The world is not fair; it never was, it never will. When you think that you have the perfect life, reality gives you a low blow and knocks you out of breath for a moment, but in the end you recover and discover the truth: perfection is merely an illusion. It is just the ugly truth wrapped in a beautiful lie.

And what's worse is that you still want to keep that wrapper intact and never tear it apart.

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It's either screwed up, or appropriate. I can only hope that it's the latter.

P.S.: Woo-hoo! School is done! But exams are coming next year... Well, fuck.

P.P.S.: excuse my French.