Slipping away, my dark soul seethed in anger. For some reason, it always did this.
My thoughts ricocheted off the walls, that of my small mind palace. My throat gave out and I couldn't breathe but I knew that I was angry. I was crazy, insane, and fucking wrong.
But I'd never admit that.
I couldn't admit that.
Because I was meant to be wonderful, not pathetic.
I was meant to be beautiful, not unattractive.
And I was definetely supposed to be calm, not bloody mad.
And then some other chap would come into my life and drive me crazy.
I wasn't going to say it.
I mean, how could I say such a pretentious thing?
It feels so pitiful to even think about.
But it never happened.
I never felt my solitude again.
