It started simple. Nobody could expect that. Not even him. It was poisoning from inside out. Nobody could help. Except himself. Refused. He knew the cure wasn't wanted. That cure. That freedom. Meant emptiness. He rather the enjoyment of that slowly suffering. Dreaming with something that would never happen But deep inside he knew. Was just bored. He never wanted that at first place. Not at all. And Nobody notice. But slowly he was going. It took a while tho. He chose to cope with that faith. After they argued they could help. If they knew. They would indeed. He didn't tell. Kept for himself. Until that day. He eventually died.... Drowned... by all his unspoken words.
It's called a work of art a sincere deep intellectual writing that he feels he needs to write i enjoy it even if it is sad some of the greatest works of art were the saddest
People... Relax... Nobody died, nobody is get, I'm not sad lol I'm very happy enjoying my trip! It is only a text. My post on FB this lines: " _ how did he die? _ Drowned by all unspoken words" Than I had some free time and just wrote something on top of that. But im OK! I'm good! Love you all! I Even like the haters