𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐲【𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬𝐦𝐩 𝐖𝐚𝐫】

♛51♛

Tw/cw: **POSSIBLE** 

Suicidal thoughts, depression, self harm, panic attacks, blood, cursing, yelling,

Im very serious about this guys, if any of this, even a tiny bit, makes you feel the slightest bit weird, uncomfortable, anything. Stop reading. Don't read the chapters with these warnings. I do in fact give them for a reason, and I'd hate for any of you to experience this because I didn't provide good enough warnings.

This chapter isn't as topic heavy actually, mentions of mainly death. It isn't a very content heavy chapter either :D

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Being alive was strange. It became apparent that life itself was something that should never be taken for granted. It was a gift to be alive, something someone should treasure. Being alive was painful, full of suffering and horror, but you feel things. You feel constant warmth, you feel your heartbeat. The expansion of your chest whenever you suck in a breath. The feeling of being full, the feeling of pain. It was all a reminder that you are alive, but when you aren't it all goes away. You are stuck in a preserved memory of yourself, many people say it is when you were the most happiest in your life. It is not happiness that decides your form, rather the more peaceful times of your life.

My experience of death was like my mind being trapped in a labyrinth. Although, the walls would change with every action. You spend your time in that labyrinth, wondering if you'll ever escape, and how wonderful it will be to return. You imagine that your future continues and that keeps you motivated. You become hopeful. You cling on to a false god, hope. And then you use that hope to avoid the present. What i've learned it that the only way out of the labyrinth of eternal suffering, is to forgive.

I didn't resent my friend who had ultimately murdered me. I wasn't angry. I was upset, disappointed. It is strange to put all of your trust into someone, knowing that they do not feel the same, that if it came to it, they'd let go of you hand. They'd let you fall if it meant they could satisfy themselves. Truly, I feel as if it was my bitterness and anger that kept me alive. It was apparent I had been giving up towards the end, the only part of me still fighting was the anger.
My unbridled rage and thirst for eventual revenge kept me going.

There's a certain clinical satisfaction in seeing just how bad things can get. Many people tend to forget that it is inhuman to be truly good as it is evil. I am my own middle ground. I do not belong to anyone, except myself. My eventual destruction will be caused by me. It was my decision to allow my friend to let go of my hand. It was me. I had the totem that I had always carried on me, but I didn't use it. I was curious, to what death was like. Part of me was aware that the man would give a life for me, to control me. My own docile nature was an act. 

What i've learned over the years is that being kind and letting the influence of anyone dictate your actions gets you nowhere. I could set the world on fire if I wanted. I could watch the ash flurry through the sky as the world burned at my feet. By no means was I a good person, my moral compass was skewed, but I knew that everyone deserves love. They deserved to be coddled at times, feel the warmth of love.rush through them. Love allowed people to grow, and it is what I wish for when I decide to love someone. 

I had hoped my children, my family, and my friends would grow into better people through me. My hope that I clung onto was that in this terrible life of mine, is to have people remember me. Remember the love they felt, remember my fury, my sadness, everything about me. Everything they would need to know to become better people.

There is relief into giving into your own destruction. There is something in everyone that is attracted to madness, to our own destruction. Perhaps it is the feeling of only yourself having the strength to do it. Suffering feels religious if you do it correctly, perhaps that is why I was in love with a god. We both added to each others suffering, but we endured it together. Basking in our own anguish. We enjoyed it because we were together. It's like seeing hell in someone's eyes and loving it anyways.

Love is not as soft as poet's make it do be. Love has teeth which bites, and the wounds caused by them never close. It's a true way of gaining eternal suffering. Love, itself, is eternal, there is no measurement to love. Being in love, and being capable of love, are two very different things. Many people disregard the latter, they disregard that they are capable of loving someone. So they abandon it. Those people are typically those who go mad. They abandon such a vital part of being a human and morph 'love' into something toxic. It destroys you from the inside out and you are nothing but a shell left. A shell of a person. Many people say love is weakness, and by all means it is, but it is also a great strength that every person has the ability to achieve.

Love is how I became, and still remain the queen of my own kingdom. The countless people who now kneel at my feet were friends who took my kindness for granted. Fundy, who had burned my homes flag to the ground, the fox who had attempt to create a power shift. He knelt at my feet, begging for my forgiveness. Schlatt, a man democratically elected into office. A man who tortured his own citizens after showing nothing but loyalty. He knelt and died bowing to me. My dear pink haired friend had even bowed to me before. A strange sight it is to witness a god kneeling to a Queen. 

I may be power hungry, ambitious, but my motives are nothing but innocent. I wish the world to burn while saving the people who deserve to be saved. I do not believe in a god. It is selfish to believe you are a holy figure, but in truth,

I am my own devastating god, and the man who has tortured my family, my children, will be the one to kneel at my feet whilst his world burns around him, begging for forgiveness before accepting his death.