They say, at the end of every storm, the sun comes out. I've been sinking for a while now. No sense of direction, no hope, just the sweet intoxication of Sadness. At this point, I gave up crying out my shouts. I feel no one cares enough, or maybe I'm in so deep that they're blind and deaf to the slow downfall of me. This situation played right into his cold hands and, like clay, he's able to manipulate and shape it into what ever he desires.
Lucky for me, if clay is exposed to the sun too long, it dries out. You cant shape clay when it's hard, stiff, and baked.
Apparently, my cries weren't a complete waist because the sun heard me. The love and enemy of Sadness. The light to a darkened world, Happiness. Unlike Sadness, his hands are warm and up lifting, his smile is so bright it can light up entire galaxies, and his eyes only reflect all the good, great, and extraordinary possibilities. Sadness will feed off of others to feel Happiness, but when Happiness is present, Sadness cowers. All of a sudden, the sea of Sadness that held me down transformed into a paradise.
When a storm ends, the sun returns.
YOU ARE READING
Goodbye.
LosoweWe're all nothing more than ghost in shells, but what if we could break out our shell without imposing death? What if all of this is just a fantasy? What if we could run somewhere, where emotions and all that other stuff exist but doesn't exist? Run...
