TITLE: A strange mood.
AUTHOR: Rilja (golf_clap@yahoo.com) RATING: PG-13 DISTRIBUTION: Archives are ok, just tell me were it went so I can go look at it. Others please ask first. DISCLAIMER: Spike and all things Sunnydale belongs to Joss Whedon. FEEDBACK: Yes! Please tell me if I did good, or bad. SPOILERS: No. Well, yes, season six finale. SUMMARY: Spike's thoughts one night. WARNING: Might be considered strange by some. NOTE: Takes place in the summer before season seven, or in the beginning of it, since I haven't seen all that much of it. A small stream-of- conscious thingy. DEDICATION: To Marta, my dear, as always. You're in my thoughts.
I'm in a strange mood tonight. It is like the shadows, crouching in the corners of the room, are out to get me. Of course it's all in my head. The shadows are not alive, no more than I am. It seems fitting that my only company is the shadows of the long dead. They crowd me. They take up all the space so that I can't move, can't breathe, can't live. Lucky me, that I don't need to breathe. Lucky me, that I am not alive. How I wish it wasn't so. How I wish the shadows would take away my will to live. What I wouldn't give to be able to live.
My soul is ripping my inside raw. Like a nest of barbed wire deep inside my chest. Chafing, burning, making me feel. When all I want is for the feelings to go away. The feelings of unworthy, the feelings of unwanted. Wanting for the light, wanting for the sun. Wanting for the freedom of walking into the daylight.
The golden rays of the morning sun would light my way. Would make me light with ease. Light with relief. To finally be able to rest. To finally be at peace. There's nothing peaceful about my existence now. Every minute is agony, every second sheer torture. Every moment deserved, wanted. The sun would burn the want away. It would burn the bloody mess inside my chest clean. Burn the wrongs and the desperation.
I wish for the courage to end it all. The courage to take that final step and let the judging rays of holy light burn away all my wrongs, all my sins. To be forgiven. To find absolution in the face of a God I've long since abandoned, but not forgotten. I pray for the strength, but knows in my heart that it will not come to me. Not tonight, maybe not ever.
End.
AUTHOR: Rilja (golf_clap@yahoo.com) RATING: PG-13 DISTRIBUTION: Archives are ok, just tell me were it went so I can go look at it. Others please ask first. DISCLAIMER: Spike and all things Sunnydale belongs to Joss Whedon. FEEDBACK: Yes! Please tell me if I did good, or bad. SPOILERS: No. Well, yes, season six finale. SUMMARY: Spike's thoughts one night. WARNING: Might be considered strange by some. NOTE: Takes place in the summer before season seven, or in the beginning of it, since I haven't seen all that much of it. A small stream-of- conscious thingy. DEDICATION: To Marta, my dear, as always. You're in my thoughts.
I'm in a strange mood tonight. It is like the shadows, crouching in the corners of the room, are out to get me. Of course it's all in my head. The shadows are not alive, no more than I am. It seems fitting that my only company is the shadows of the long dead. They crowd me. They take up all the space so that I can't move, can't breathe, can't live. Lucky me, that I don't need to breathe. Lucky me, that I am not alive. How I wish it wasn't so. How I wish the shadows would take away my will to live. What I wouldn't give to be able to live.
My soul is ripping my inside raw. Like a nest of barbed wire deep inside my chest. Chafing, burning, making me feel. When all I want is for the feelings to go away. The feelings of unworthy, the feelings of unwanted. Wanting for the light, wanting for the sun. Wanting for the freedom of walking into the daylight.
The golden rays of the morning sun would light my way. Would make me light with ease. Light with relief. To finally be able to rest. To finally be at peace. There's nothing peaceful about my existence now. Every minute is agony, every second sheer torture. Every moment deserved, wanted. The sun would burn the want away. It would burn the bloody mess inside my chest clean. Burn the wrongs and the desperation.
I wish for the courage to end it all. The courage to take that final step and let the judging rays of holy light burn away all my wrongs, all my sins. To be forgiven. To find absolution in the face of a God I've long since abandoned, but not forgotten. I pray for the strength, but knows in my heart that it will not come to me. Not tonight, maybe not ever.
End.