Disclaimer: I don't own the game. I don't own the console. I don't own Square. I'm just a bitch to the system.
I want to believe that you're dead.
A fucking dead traitor, hanging by his toes or boiled to his ears or drowned or shot or something worse than this pain you created in my—heart.
Yea.
Sure.
Let's call it that.
We pretended enough, didn't we? Stretched our lips and contorted our faces to look like we felt something.
anything
And now, lying here with my fingers numb, I can finally taste those eyes.
Like Sea-Salt Ice Cream and little chocolate cones bobbling and saying: "why"—"why".
"Axel, why?"
dying is feeling
i wish you could
the You inside of You