…and then it felt like nothing else existed, even for just a moment.
We’re supposed to say I’m lucky, we’re supposed to say I was blessed, but that fiction is not fact. The biggest fact is my truth. If you’re going to bite me, I expect you to break the skin. If you’re going to bite me I expect you to lick the blood from my wounds.
If you’re going to try to break me, I expect compound fractures, I expect total destruction, annihilation. Don’t half arse it, I expect better from you.
A malleable mind, a sucker-boy without a spine. (Not you, me)
And the words used to help, but not so much anymore and maybe that because I keep re-reading them, repeating them; what is this but a repetition of the same mistakes, the same situations, the same me me me me? The dying words will be ones you’ve all heard before. The same song on repeat, the anthem to my demise.
Here I am, again, talking to a brick wall again. Talking to the ether in the hope (fear?) that someone heard the metronome ticking my last heartbeats.