I wasn't going to write a story until after exams, but oh well. Socials is a boring topic to study. I got the inspiration for this from A) a dream and B) FMA chapter 60 where on the ground a soldier covered in blood is saying 'I don't want to die, I don't want to die'. I didn't this really quickly vV;. Blah. Geez, it wouldn't let me post thisfor almost a week!Please review.
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I don't want to die. I don't want to die. God, no, I didn't get to tell you…
Not yet. I can't die. I don't want to die yet.
Love. What does this mean? Your Gran-Gran left love, and with that someone who cared so solely for her. Someone she maybe loved back.
What is love, exactly? If you are infatuated with a person or not, you are still granted with the feeling of the sun's warmth upon your back, through the window separating your existence from the portraying corals and vermilions of the sunsets.
Love doesn't mean you cannot smile and live freely. You can do so as plainly as the in take of breath, the addiction and quench your first and last gulps of neoteric air offer you.
It doesn't mean that without love you cannot thrust yourself into the heavens with open arms gaping at the knowledge and security that it offers, spinning and sewing your feet into lust and maternal underfoot. It doesn't mean that without love you cannot watch the onyx skies shot with stars, and either way you will always wonder if there is truly someone out there watching them too and sharing a heartbeat in this instant.
And when I was isolated in that iceberg, it was water - your element – you – that convinced me above all to survive. That nurtured and protected me when I was so vulnerable.
Is this love?
Butterflies roam unconfined in air. Butterflies in my stomach, in my head, my heart. I am graced with your image in these moments, you so determined and passionate and true, carved deep and soundly in my memory.
I'm sorry, Katara.
I'm sorry...