Pain
- Reads 8,002
- Votes 4,319
- Parts 200
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That's right, these are just.. my memories. They're flashing before my eyes, but why? Am I dying? No, I can't die yet, there's so much I have to do. And really... I really don't want to relive through these memories. My past... This worthless past. This worthless... "And that fleeting hope where I started to believe that I could fix my life grew so big, I couldn't control it. At that moment, I knew I had to make it back to finish my self-imposed duties." "But in the end, they were nothing but words. I couldn't manage a single thing on my own. At the end of the day, right before my eyes, I'm reminded that I shouldn't have been the one to survive-Not at all." All of my attempts, everything I've been through, and all I had to suffer for, it was all just a pathetic, comical, uninteresting story. [Also on Quotev under GabrielXander]Complete
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Baby I'm so sorry I can't explain why I did this. Shut up. I gave you everything. There was no need for this and yet you treated me like this. You know what you will pay for this and him too. Get the hell out my house right now!!!!! ------------------------------ β οΈ Warning β οΈ -Mature Content -Strong LanguageComplete
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βΌοΈWARNINGβΌοΈ This does contain inappropriate language, content, and much more. This is meant to be 18+!! So, if you're not 18 or more and still read this anyways, you brought this on yourself!!
Everlong
My brain churns, twists around and pulls itself through it's other side. My thoughts cut through my skull, drip down my spine, and I shiver from the cold. My eyes widen, and my stomach goes sick.Complete
A happy childhood, a so-so adolescence. Then adulthood arrived, and everything went to hell. And by everything, I mean it. Grown-up life is truly a wonderful, dazzling adventure! A job that drains your soul, stripping away any will to live while fueling a more or less justified homicidal instinct; depression knocking at the door with a lovely bouquet of red roses and, last but not least, the remnants of a social life buried somewhere under my shoes. Not the ones I'm wearing now; those are slippers, big difference. I mean the pretty ones in the cabinet that I haven't touched in five years. Love can be destructive. It catches you, ensnares you, devours you, and if you're unlucky enough, it leaves you standing in nothing but your underwear before reducing you to ashes. I had made peace with my "and she lived single, forever unhappy but safe" fate. A house, one, four, eight, maybe twenty cats and a future as flat as a heart monitor that's given up the ghost. No joys, minimal suffering, because there's only so much a heart can take before it calls it quits. And honestly? Fuck it, I'd been through enough. ... But he changed everything. In the worst, most terrifying way possible. From this abyss, I may never climb back out.
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