“I hate this feeling. Like Im’ here, but I’m not. Like someone cares. But they don’t. Like I belong somewhere else, anywhere but here, and escape lies just past that snowy window, cool and crisp as the February air.” – Ellen Hopkins
It’s getting dark now. It’s getting painful again.
I can feel the sky being torn in two, I can feel the agony of the nightingale who died for a love that was no love, I can feel my dreams being crumpled up, my tomorrows shattered. And all I can do is silently bleed.
It’s getting so much darker now. My eyes are turning black. I’m fading, becoming one with the emptiness.
There is nothing comfortable about numbness. It’s like I’m dying and I can’t even cry. I can’t even tell you everything I wish I could.
I don’t want to settle in the darkness and the cold.
Somewhere buried below layers and layers of dreams is you, but I can never really reach you. And now, every dream is turning inwards, becoming a black hole.
We won’t meet again…
You float away from here and I become rain.