Those Who Cling, Those Who Struggle

Trying to wrap my head around this...

If only I had the answers...

The echoes are dying slowly and the void opens up widely, embracing its wide gape to me with solemn charm. Hello, darkness, my old friend.

Every passing minute hurts, every second, sweat dripping all over under London weather. I have so many questions in my mind. Do you really even want the answers? Now the smell of melancholy weighs upon my nostrils, suffocating me in intermittent rounds. No warning whatsoever, no heads up. There was nothing subliminal about it. It came to me from the get go, and I kind of just ignored the signs, hoping that the ends justify the means. It was a foolish thing, that, to play with your heart. No one is to blame but you. I knew, then, that the place where I was exactly a year ago now never really left. It was always beside me, transmogrified into a cursed bracelet I wore since that fateful day, and why I remain to wear it to this day remains a mystery. You should have left Rosetta's memento somewhere where you do not have to constantly remind yourself of it. I have always kind of treated it as a reminder of the pain I felt, of the promise that was broken, and the heaviness I endured along the way since then, but instead the feelings never left, it loitered in my arm, lulled into sleep and back again.

What do you do now?

What else is there to do really but run amok with the struggle in tow? Thinking about the many ways to go about it, nothing really sticks. What I thought was my messiah turns out to be a handful of misbegotten emotions. It was good while it lasted. Definitely penetrated the immunity with which I defend what is left of the good in me. Now I stand beside my pure malice with unreserved judgement. Love me, it whispers. I am the only thing left for you to pursue. Fuck. I close my eyes once again, and pray never to wake, if only to see it consume me, this undying ressentiment.

And now your watch has ended.