f r a g m e n t e d.

narcissus suicide.

It was a rainy day when we first met. Of course I've seen you before. I mean, it's quite impossible not to. You do have a strong, resistant presence. But... Having that in mind, I never thought anything could ever happen. Wish you haven't asked about me. Wish you haven't looked at me that way. Stupid, stupid girl; what was on your mind? Those months, those talks, those looks... Your eyes. The way you looked at me, that day by the bakery. The way you held my hand and said all kinds of pretty things. The way you kissed me, so nervously. Gosh, wish I knew why you were so stupidly nervous. Was it because of the kiss? Was it because of what your friends would think? Was it because of the location? Time? Weather? It was the coldest day of the year. Or did we make it that way? Said you loved me anyway.

But you loved yourself more. Trust me, that's not a bad thing. But damn, my feelings got fucked up. How could you move on that fast? The mirror was, in fact, your best friend. Could you stop looking at yourself and stare at me for a second? All of those moments, it wasn't you and me. You were alone, with your own image. With yourself. Your mirror. But it broke. It's broken, sweetie. And you're trapped, under the water. Under your own thoughts. Your own words and music and books. Your own relationship.

Just you and yourself.

And a whole lot of narcissuses around their own mirrors, metaphorically living.