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Rated: E · Chapter · Romance/Love · #2324205
Not all the stories we write are true but merely a reality we wish to have come true.
Far from the World


Resting on his chest for hours, suddenly time ceases to exist, the wind delicately entering and leaving my exposed soul. It's vast, my soul; it's quiet. I was always a yearner for contentment; I found temporary comfort in the illusion of contentment, which is what keeps me alive now. I have reached so far that I cannot fathom the reality anymore, yet it feels too far from the end. It's so uncanny how it feels. I'm lost now; the comfort is slowly draining me. My mind captures nothing but darkness. The darkness is somehow intimidating; it's pulling me towards it like a magnet. I do not try to fight it but simply allow the darkness to consume me. It wasn't long enough until the only emotion I felt also faded away-acceptance. A breeze it is; my closed eyes hurt, it's bright when I merely open them, it hurts to see the beauty of the bright, and then it is all bright like the dark never existed. A man who has only seen bright days would never believe that there can be an alternative--a lapse in time when there is no when. I see his brown eyes, like the color of comfort. Again, his eyes remind me of spring, when people are the happiest. I see his smile, and now I feel it. I feel the most contempt now.



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