Alone.
If there is one word to describe how I feel at this exact moment- that's it.
Alone: being without anyone or anything else; only.
I guess I shouldn't be complaining, I'm used to this feeling, it's practically the only feeling I know.
But who cares.
Friends are overrated.
Love is overrated.
Friends can leave with one misheard word, one misjudged action. And love… Hah. Love only ends in broken hearts and broken dreams. Love is a pale light, slowly growing farther and farther, until all that's left is a tiny shimmering star- a minuscule speck of hope in a universe of loneliness.
I'm sick of it, sick of everything. Sick of staring into the shattered mirror, watching my image distort and shift with each different shard. Trying to piece it all back together, only to end up with ten bleeding fingers. So I've decided to give up, give up on ever hoping for things to piece themselves back together, to mend and to heal, to bask in the warm glow of love and friendship. So here I lay in the growing darkness, feeling it swallow every last bit of hope from the deepest chasms of my heart. Knowing that with each passing moment, my desire grows stronger. My desire to be purged of the fungus that festers in the dark corners of my heart, slowly engulfing every surface, every inch.
The strings of my heart stretch and bend, plucking out a fruitless tune with each breaking cord.
Here I lay.
Alone.