LifeLine

Webbed

F!ck this feelings! It suffocates me! 

What's good of being alive instead of burying me 5 feet under the soil. Sematary is a good place to stay. Wood carved coffin, melody of plea; loosing somebody that brings no benefit. Roses, Crimsons' 5 petals flowers, lilies on me so that people will notice somebody was buried there in red soil.

This dark room feels so goo. I belongs in here... Hands crippled on my face remorsing things that I could not did; crying my heart out or draw blood from my skin. I hate this feeling ( omit I did not have feelings at all ) I felt terrible... But this is just good. What am I doing? I couldn't understand.

"What's your problem? What's happening to you?", they simply asked

wrong move samaritans. If and only if I know what's happening, I probably sure know how to overcome this thus avoid it at all cost.

'It' suck out the plea... That bad thoughts in me and turn it into satin; Weaves it into a rope and knitted it into hanging rope for me to hang myself. And 'it' breaks it leg that grip on my head. Chunk it into pieces, mould into a cutter, a knife, a peeler and all of sharp things that as far as I can remember exist in this room. 

"My part is done, it's your turn next to pick your own choice", 'it' echoes in my ear...

Hard decision.

Too many options.

Jittered mind.

Upset thought.

Blank.

'Flower'

'Flower blooms'

'Smile blooms just like flower'

'Saging tito...'

'This is my decision, I won't regret'

And I clutched my mattress and webbed myself in it; pillows stuffed in my face. It was hot and obnoxious. Wild thoughts dangling from my ear, dropped like a dewdrop on the pillow. A tug of war inside my head bustling to every nook and cranny of my body. Quarter past 2. Exhausted.

'Not this time. Mahal kita Saging Tito.'