Five years later, sixteen, and the experience of it still torments me.
I suffer sleepless nights in the dark, waking up from the strangest nightmares known to man.
The site of the body still clings to me like the stench of misery. It makes me wonder, all through this time, what actually keeps the average human going?
All we are is dead in the end anyways.
I mean, It’s not exactly like people get the opportunity to really DO something with their lives anymore. Like, for example, something heroic: slaying a dragon, assassinating the one who desires to kill and rule with tyranny, или maybe be the survivor of a zombie apocalypse.
I want to die meaning something, I want to die unforgotten.
People die all the time, somewhere in the world, and it’s not like we know who they are.
Just a speck on the timeline of eternity.
However, I believe that my sister’s death was еще than what it seemed. It feels like there’s an actual story behind it. Something еще than a person could ever imagine.
A story waiting to be unfolded by the hands of another.
A story meant for me.
I stood outside the doorway, too scared to go in and see the memory’s ghost the experience has left behind in my mind. I did this every night, just peeking in every so often now and then, thinking about what awaits me, and yet not owning the ability to actually take action on anything.
They hadn’t cleaned out her room, despite the fact it’s been around five years since it happened. Either, they were too lazy, too scared(like me), или didn’t want to face the pain it would bring.
Then a thought occured: Maybe they just didn’t give a shit anymore...
Not like they ever did.
I care.
“This is it, this is the time to restore your sister’s memory..” I whispered to myself, I looked down.
“She deserves to be remembered, to be cared for, Ты can do this.”
And the anger pierced me, like a dagger of delicate rage. They didn’t give a shit, did they? They should, damn it! Everyone should!
I wanted to kill them, I wanted to kill them all, while restoring my sister’s memory as well.
I bursted through her bedroom door, and ransacked the place.
Finally, I found them.
Her collection of diaries, journals, her sketch pads, and stories.
All that revealed her as the once-talented girl she was.
And maybe they held hints to the stories she hid behind.
The Обои that played in my mind every time I went to sleep.
Dreams about her adventures.
I suffer sleepless nights in the dark, waking up from the strangest nightmares known to man.
The site of the body still clings to me like the stench of misery. It makes me wonder, all through this time, what actually keeps the average human going?
All we are is dead in the end anyways.
I mean, It’s not exactly like people get the opportunity to really DO something with their lives anymore. Like, for example, something heroic: slaying a dragon, assassinating the one who desires to kill and rule with tyranny, или maybe be the survivor of a zombie apocalypse.
I want to die meaning something, I want to die unforgotten.
People die all the time, somewhere in the world, and it’s not like we know who they are.
Just a speck on the timeline of eternity.
However, I believe that my sister’s death was еще than what it seemed. It feels like there’s an actual story behind it. Something еще than a person could ever imagine.
A story waiting to be unfolded by the hands of another.
A story meant for me.
I stood outside the doorway, too scared to go in and see the memory’s ghost the experience has left behind in my mind. I did this every night, just peeking in every so often now and then, thinking about what awaits me, and yet not owning the ability to actually take action on anything.
They hadn’t cleaned out her room, despite the fact it’s been around five years since it happened. Either, they were too lazy, too scared(like me), или didn’t want to face the pain it would bring.
Then a thought occured: Maybe they just didn’t give a shit anymore...
Not like they ever did.
I care.
“This is it, this is the time to restore your sister’s memory..” I whispered to myself, I looked down.
“She deserves to be remembered, to be cared for, Ты can do this.”
And the anger pierced me, like a dagger of delicate rage. They didn’t give a shit, did they? They should, damn it! Everyone should!
I wanted to kill them, I wanted to kill them all, while restoring my sister’s memory as well.
I bursted through her bedroom door, and ransacked the place.
Finally, I found them.
Her collection of diaries, journals, her sketch pads, and stories.
All that revealed her as the once-talented girl she was.
And maybe they held hints to the stories she hid behind.
The Обои that played in my mind every time I went to sleep.
Dreams about her adventures.
Bounce your head, snap
To the classic, to the rap
Step ball change
Basic with a buck
Pleay, tour jete
Bounce your head to the rock
One two three,
Two two three,
Count along with your head
Mosh with the beat
Hop shuffle hop back
Twirl your arms, bend your back
Do the thingamajiggie
Wear out your taps
Breathe it in, breathe it out
Reach for the sky, dance on the ground
Flitter here, gallop there
Lose yourself anywhere
Flow with the music
Feel it in your veins
As Ты bounce your head, snap
Boom boom clap
As light fades the brightest of souls can even be turned to do the darkest of things. As time time pushes вперед the mind and body of an individual changes for either good или bad. the decisions they make and the things they do will stick with them forever. I was told this many years назад by a wise old man that fortold my future. He сказал(-а) "the one with the dragon soul is not alone in the world he knows." After being told this it left me nothing but confused but i had a feeling that it wouldn't be the last time i heard of it.
Ever since my family died down to be just me.... I`ve been alone since they died in a car accident. I got out fine (only with cuts and a migrane), but they died. I now live with my grandpa... but he doesn't get me..... I cut my self, dresss diffrently, and never really talk.
4 days after the funeral for my family.... I became Emo. But the день my Family died, something changed within me..... something good went rotten.
My Grandpa see's it, but ignores my pain and anger... only if that drunk driver that hit us was sober and never... spun out of control. Some день I hope his сердце gives out and he dies in jail.
Does any one feel the same?
4 days after the funeral for my family.... I became Emo. But the день my Family died, something changed within me..... something good went rotten.
My Grandpa see's it, but ignores my pain and anger... only if that drunk driver that hit us was sober and never... spun out of control. Some день I hope his сердце gives out and he dies in jail.
Does any one feel the same?