Dead Words
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- Votes 25
- Parts 11
||A reflection on life||
Him:
I feel sick of everything. Sick of being trapped in the grey, dysfunctional facade called 'society.' Sick of having to go through the same robotic routines like clockwork toys. Sick of being at fault all the time. Sick of the fact that everything is so voidly predictable. Sick of being in denial with reality.
Her:
I just don't understand it: is criticism and hatred the only thing people grow from? Everything went ugly and the colors just faded out. I remember it being so preversely attractive a few years back. Was that just an illusion?
Reality:
Avoiding me won't save you, neither will confronting. You all have the same problems; your soul's essence is what defines you. You think it's you against the world, but it's only you against yourself.
Fate:
You make mistakes, you fall to pieces, you face failure, you spend sleepless nights going over scenarios: because you're human. And humans are meant to love each other. The ones who break stitches and mend bonds.
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