The little stroll I took home under the scorching sun burnt my thoughts (yes, thoughts again). I got irritated because I needed to cry, yet the blazing heat prevented me from thinking in any right frame. My left sleeve was getting on my nerves too; they kept drooping down, thanks to the Mango's hang-shoulders design. I was wearing chocolate-brown, and the heat inflicted in me was increasing, in both ways. The heat could have drove me insane, but the frustration would have me put to end.
It was like the second death; dying twice is an excruxiatingly torturing thing to experience since I had to live on even after both deaths and it wasn't the most ideal way to die. The first time I died was when she did, and the second, was when I envisaged history repeating on another loved one. Pain wouldn't feel that painful if you were around, but that's besides the point. Satanic music and death reminds me of hi-jacked hi-fi speakers, blasting non-stop jamming, shouting and yelling, young punks, and finally, Death, and I hate such music. I hate it so much, only because they drive suicidal messages into me; they make me scorn God for snatching my Marion, the only one I held my love for so deep. They remind me of death and death is a particular topic I wouldn't exactly love to be probing nor discussing about. Death had a lot of everstaying and stubborn hatred and anger instilled in me, and I wish I had never gone through the unhappiness and goth of death. This form of unhappiness is like looking forward to a rainfall, you smell the rain, the skies are dark and gloomy, you feel spiritually that the rain's falling, but the sun shines out of nowhere, and there's no more hope for rain.
Suddenly, I feel cold, degrees under. The sun isn't getting to me anymore, neither was the heat. I felt tight in the chest, and I began to gasp for someone, anyone, but noone came to my rescue, noone saved me from the emotional torment. Realisation crashed on me that I was alone, that I've become so cold that I was unrecognisable. It's a pretty scary thing to be feeling, as if nothing else in the world matters and all that's in my mind is Death itself, the only thing that's been haunting me for years and hasn't really left me since then. Death has always been hanging around for a new sucker. But right then, I didn't mind being its new prey; there isn't much for me to stay on for, is there? There will be a day, when someone will meet me into the meadows, greet me with daffodils; paradise will be mine to keep with just You and I, and there'll be no grief forevermore.
It was like the second death; dying twice is an excruxiatingly torturing thing to experience since I had to live on even after both deaths and it wasn't the most ideal way to die. The first time I died was when she did, and the second, was when I envisaged history repeating on another loved one. Pain wouldn't feel that painful if you were around, but that's besides the point. Satanic music and death reminds me of hi-jacked hi-fi speakers, blasting non-stop jamming, shouting and yelling, young punks, and finally, Death, and I hate such music. I hate it so much, only because they drive suicidal messages into me; they make me scorn God for snatching my Marion, the only one I held my love for so deep. They remind me of death and death is a particular topic I wouldn't exactly love to be probing nor discussing about. Death had a lot of everstaying and stubborn hatred and anger instilled in me, and I wish I had never gone through the unhappiness and goth of death. This form of unhappiness is like looking forward to a rainfall, you smell the rain, the skies are dark and gloomy, you feel spiritually that the rain's falling, but the sun shines out of nowhere, and there's no more hope for rain.
Suddenly, I feel cold, degrees under. The sun isn't getting to me anymore, neither was the heat. I felt tight in the chest, and I began to gasp for someone, anyone, but noone came to my rescue, noone saved me from the emotional torment. Realisation crashed on me that I was alone, that I've become so cold that I was unrecognisable. It's a pretty scary thing to be feeling, as if nothing else in the world matters and all that's in my mind is Death itself, the only thing that's been haunting me for years and hasn't really left me since then. Death has always been hanging around for a new sucker. But right then, I didn't mind being its new prey; there isn't much for me to stay on for, is there? There will be a day, when someone will meet me into the meadows, greet me with daffodils; paradise will be mine to keep with just You and I, and there'll be no grief forevermore.