Designer: Manikka
Resources: 1 2 3

How were you supposed to know that I was secretly rooting for you all along? That I wanted, for once, to be proven wrong?
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my shoulder. my arm socket. what arm socket? the stride of my leg,


There's reason enough for living and breathing and the occassional beating when there is uncertainty in all aspects of my life but this!
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Who was I trying to kid, with your arm around my waist, your hand on my shoulder, my fingers curled around your wrist. I'd blame the alcohol if it wasn't for my insane sobriety. I'd feign oblivion if my motives weren't so crystal clear.

Denial makes for immense confusion. The truth is simple

..albeit, inconvenient.
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I tried to bury a girl who I'd known and come to hate in a matter of months. She'd woven her poison into my bones, subtly but surely, over a course of little more than 16 years..but I hacked away at her dubious masterpiece, kicking and flailing, screaming as I pulled on strings.

I never stopped long enough to feel the friction on my skin. Perhaps I was numb.

Perhaps I'd felt hatred beyond my capacity of feeling -so much so, that there was nothing left of that sense, to recognize any other emotion.

I quickly tired of that hatred..I overdosed on every possible experience, hoping to divert my mind's attention..to focus on the background noise..on everything, rather than anything.

I was falling so far behind..so deep into the ratrace.

It felt good to be caught.

It felt good to breathe (fresh air).

It felt good to recognize the love we could feel but never see..the hurt that could kill, but never be communicated.

When will I ever have the time or skill to even begin to describe all this? Hopefully before Les Mis and El Fili and Trig push the memories out of my brain. Hopefully before I get sick of singing I Can.
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God knows what or who I'll find, up in nosebleed-territory..I'm honestly a bit scared to find out, myself. I'm honestly a bit scared to find myself.
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