I've just written about a million small fragments to so many things. I'm tired, and still wondering whether I have sadistic, or masochistic tendencies( Because I love this too much, I love the angst, so, so, so, much). Maybe both. Listening to the tingles in my spine and the whispers in my head....I think we call that a headache.
{x}
He won't think about the implications, what it means for him to want it that way.
Because if he does, he knows it won't last. Everything he's done up until then, all the clawing and clinging at the crimson, the light, would all be for nothing(as it is, as it is, I am nothing.)
The things he thinks when he feels the sun, when he sees the sky(Sky blue, deep, deep, blue. Blue. Blue. Blue.), and how it's like the pull of the ocean rather than the wind(Not the wind, please, please, not the wind.),because you don't drown in air,( No, no, no, it whips you instead, tears you open instead. Please ,please please, not the wind,) though either way, it doesn't matter very much, when every breath is a pretty, paved path to your death.
He won't say he's still afraid, that although it's all been lost, and even if they don't know it, they're just picking at his bones,(and he's just offering himself up, open arms and glass, sharp edges,) and that still, still, he's afraid, because he'll know the truth if he ever stops.
If he ever gets on with his life and forgets him, if he finds himself someone who won't run away, lead him on(Run away!) and moves on, and throws away the heart he doesn't know he's ever had.( He won't see I'm bleeding, bleeding, bleeding. I'm on the floor and bleeding, bleeding…)
He doesn't want to know it.(No,no,no,no,no, no.)
He rather they all die than know it.( and it's so selfish, selfish, I have you on this hook…)
But he doesn't want to know.
(He prays, prays, prays, it never happens.)
Because if he stopped, if he stopped, if he forgot all about him( Please, please, please, don't leave me. Don't leave me.) Then he'd have to face water, drop his struggles, and stare, straight forward to face the darkness as he drowns.
{x}
He won't ever admit it, but he loves the chase.