Due to the urging of a few strangers on the internet, I now have a ko-fi account… you know, in case any of you were interested in that. All donations will be used for my books. Hiring cover artists and whatnot gets pricey.
Thank you for your support.
It’s been so long since he’s been happy, and though his chest aches, that, too will pass.
Time does heal after all.
The only way to love someone is to realize that someday they might be gone from you.
He thought he belonged here. He did — once. But after one decision she makes to stray, he realizes just how easily his world can crumble into nothing.
His life is over here.
It’s harder than he expects — cutting out the tender, rotting pieces of him where he once allowed her to make a home. Strange that it should hurt, since she’s already migrated to another. Stranger, still, that he should falter over a relationship she threw away so easily. But there’s something profoundly sad about hollowness, and something frighteningly toxic about being the only one left behind.
Light catches in her eye.
Twinkling. Hopeful. Hesitant.
The words in his throat vanish with an inhale, and suddenly, the rest of the world no longer matters.
Perhaps it never did.
When her face clouds over and his voice gets trapped somewhere between the tightness of his throat and a swollen emotion he cannot name, all he can think about are words — and how utterly useless they are in the face of his own sudden, irrational desire to immolate this entire world to the ground… because how dare they make her look like this? What right do they have to make her mouth tilt into a pained grimace? Stocking stones on her back like she isn’t already staggering under the weight of what she carries.
So… the first snow of the year has rolled in, and hopefully it’ll be the last.
Contrary to the images, this isn’t cool. At all. I’m down here to escape the snow and the cold and all the shoveling that comes with it, so why is it all still here?!
That’s how you know you’re old and tainted, you’re thinking about shovels and iced roads when all this beautiful, icy white goodness is around you. I bet there are kids somewhere out in my neighborhood, all bundled up and screaming murder at each other, all the while profusely thanking Santa in their minds for his late af gift right now. Your collective gift is ruining me right now, kids. I hope you’re happy….
Or, then again, maybe I can skip out on being a productive member of society today due to the rarity of the occasion? Yea, that works. I retract my previous statement. I love snow.
For What It’s Worth
By: Liam Gallagher
Somewhere in the crossfire of this whispering war
Seems that I forgot just what I was fighting for
But underneath my skin there’s a fire within
“The same feeling of not belonging, of futility, wherever I go: I pretend interest in what matters nothing to me, I bestir myself mechanically or out of charity, without ever being caught up, without ever being somewhere. What attracts me is elsewhere, and I don’t know where that elsewhere is.”
-Emil M. Cioran, The Trouble with Being Born