I hadn’t considered the possibility that they could both be broken. In my head, he saved her from whatever terrible fate she was bound to face. Perhaps they could somehow save each other instead. I mean, they’re going to save the entire world, so we should probably give them a chance to live happily ever after.
It’s that kind of shit that messes with our heads. They lived happily ever after… except later that evening she began feeling mildly irritated by the way he had to carefully sort out his clothes before he got into bed, and during the night he was grossed out because she drooled on his clavicle while they were sleeping. They lived happily for two and a half hours after. That’s still a pretty good run for a fleeting emotion though, I suppose.
You become increasingly fascinating to me. I want to know what you have there instead of this. Is it just a void? Or do you somehow have them there but you’re just a passive spectator, like someone holding a snowglobe and choosing not to shake it?
My snowglobe is broken, and it’s snowing everywhere. It’s not always a bad thing. Snow can be fun – I just have to be careful of avalanches. Blizzards appear without warning sometimes, and I can’t always move out of the way in time. I get stuck in the middle and everything gets dark and I fall apart and fly around with the snowflakes.
It’s why crazy girls have a reputation for being good in bed. They fuck like their lives depend on it because at that moment you are the only thing controlling their chaos. Identity and ego become irrelevant at the point of orgasm – it no longer matters who you are because at that moment in time all the destructive emotions are drawn together and concentrated and aimed until they finally overwhelm themselves and explode, taking you along with it.
But then you come down and the feelings take over again and you have to go back to the beginning. Nothing ever lasts.
Now I kind of understand the misunderstanding. My tears were just raindrops from the eye of a passing storm I was compelled to chase. They even felt good for a moment, purely because it hurt and the pain makes us feel alive. Please don’t make me stop.
Your lack of response compliments my eternally superficial one.
My heart is like Pandora’s box. I promise that you can’t break it, because I’m not opening it again. That last little bit of hope is all we have left, and we need it.