,_, let's hope this works. This is just a piece of something that came to mind, don't judge. It might be a series, on the way it goes. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ My throat ached at the sound of your voice. You hurt me for your demise, I felt like your blood was cold as ice, frowning me into a darker and frightening oblivion. This hadn't kept me long, as I ached for the silence of your breathing, it chocked me, made me out of breath, and I thought I would never feel this so. You told me to stay away, but I couldn't help myself. My senses tell me to stop, but I better not. Why do I keep circling? It's like a carousal of agony, up and down, I'm having the worst pain, and the best pleasure yet. And it repeats again and again and again.... It's my pain that makes your thrill doesn't it? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Chapter 1- Rising Ways_ I gripped onto my coat tighter as I find my cold white lips frozen and chipped. I smudged both lips together, seeing of my warm mouth would make it feel better, but I had a huge bumpy texture on my lips, and it didn't feel so well. The air was dry, and my throat was on the verge of dying, metabolically, as a metaphor, I was just cold. I entered the facility where the costumes were hung, and the lights dimmed and shimmered, and the rows of seats were at my command. My black leggings were close to shredding me apart, since my legs were growing wider, and my body changing. I guess that's how you grow up. My designed tank that was beaded with feathers and crosses, dangling from my shirt, gave me luck. My white blonde hair increasingly proofed at the humidity inside, it frizzed and gave me a wild humor of grunting. And my tiny fingers were locked at my leather case, and I tried to open the lock. 23-12-3. The case opened and what lay inside, was my hand crafted violin that had intricate hand marks and designs that I created as I spoke my words, and I felt better, to share my memories. Usually I wanted to show the world that anyone could see it differently....but who had the courage? I had no clue. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I think this shall be the most consistent of mine.....it's my series of when I'm depressed.. I write this. It's hard for me to be depressed, but sometimes it's in my face ,_,
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Finding myself happy was always a different experience. There was always something wrong. Just something, the weather, the mood, I could never find true happiness. It's a gift only few possess. I took the violin and traced my fingers through it, and played softly to the eerie mood the facility brought, it hummed to me softly, as I twirled I'm motion, finding myself closing my eyes and signing through chords. It feels lively but everyone must make most of it. I opened my eyes, my black eyes piercing and dark, as I strummed the chords faster, and my legs and frets sprung through the hair, and my violin was going faster, my arms pacing through the music. Gradually I was finding myself dancing of lost and regret. I felt like flying. The feeling was so remorse and astounding my arms were on fire, my blood racing. The the door opened, and my violin stopped, smoke rising from it. "Hello?" I echoed. But no one answered. I must have been alone, but my head told me one thing. Keep going. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Keep going. That's what I always heard. What I experienced, what people tell me to thrive on, and strive, though I wonder sometimes. Why do we keep going? To achieve goals, but most of the times they never help out. Yay, you save the day, but who had the chance to feel what you've felt? Sacrifices have been made, and truth told, it never shows that everything is equal, it shows only one side is happy. Why yay? Maybe none of the sides are happy, just silent, not wanting more fights. They think thats happiness? It's not true. Our hearts are strong, but we don't have enough weight to carry, it's impossible. No one has enough weight to make someone happy. It's Lightweight. Your world shakes, and it falls you apart. My mins deceives me, and I don't like the choices. Who am I to trust. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~