Life -noun-
↪the condition that distinguishes animals and plants from inorganic matter, including the capacity for growth, reproduction, functional activity and continual change preceding death.
But in other words, it can be a journey crafted for us...
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💫Tenth Pleasure💫
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Okay.
Are you really sure you want to do this? Because there's no turning back.
It all seems like a world, you immediately fall into and you love it.
You love loathing yourself.
It makes everything much easier, right? Remembering the first moments, when it all seemed like a little prick. You felt it all at that moment.
The sensation of crushing pain, the adrenaline of nearly touching death, the two little droplets of the scarlet liquid that signed my own contract. Hot tears streamed off your face, dropping the object in the ground immediately. Panting heavily, touching gently the fresh new cut you just made.
Why the heck did you do that?
Because you feel unimportant, you can't take it anymore. Sure a lot of people make fun of that. To them being depressed means that you have to feel grumpy, moody, and feel like the whole world is against you.
Truth is, the world is actually against you.
Waiting until you fall. They push you to the edge of the cliff.
Your sanity is...Gone bit by bit.
You don't want to fly. You want to drown in guilt.
So you fall.
You fall into the black pit of sorrow and self-doubt when you think you're never good enough when you don't matter. Somehow this was your home. It showed who you truly are, or what you think you truly are. Was it real? Was it fake? You don't care.
You've entered this world now.
Moments after, you might get to return to the reality of your world now. But your vision now is changed for it, you see its true colors and cruelty. Wrapping chains around yourself on your own neck, wrists, and legs. Being a prisoner of yourself, to hide from the world and why not yourself.
You needed an escape to the other realm.
Awaiting impatiently for your return to this world of black. Truth to be told, this world isn't as bad as you expected. You are the only one there, comforted by darkness, a good type of darkness.
The darkness of your heart.
The only time when you're in peace with what you've done. You can be who you are with nobody to tell you off. But there is a price to pay for the entrance there.
Your blood.
As if that's a reason to stop you. Returning to the object again, diving the sharp edges like the fangs of a vampire to drink your life juice.
