She smiled at him, and he stopped breathing.
What did she care what became of this world when her loved ones were dead and gone?
I’m not going anywhere.
Life wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t supposed to be. Eternal beauty could not exist if it were not for the face of a fatal flaw.
The most important things, the experiences that leave marks on our souls for everyone to see, those marks that reflect our most intense emotions in a glass pane, we will never forget.
I already live like you,” Evan lifted his head and looked straight into Christian’s eyes. “I’m living like you right now, without her. If she leaves me when I ask her to marry me, or at the altar, or tomorrow, I could still say I tried. I could still say I loved her, that I kissed her, I held her.” Evan inhaled a deep breath, his chest swelling with the intensity of it. “Without her, I’ll just rot into nothing.
Christian submitted to the roll of his eyes, the churn of his stomach, the break in his knees. He willingly fell out of consciousness, surrendering his heart to the blackness. She was gone. He was gone. Life on earth didn’t matter anymore.
The sound of her phone shocked her out of the dark world that was currently playing in front of her eyes from the book in her lap. She wondered sometimes, why she bothered with books. If she wanted to hallucinate, all she had to do was get up in the morning.
It takes two to tango, and if you dance too long, implosion is inevitable.
Writing is the voices inside our heads, our minds, the creativity that exists for us to, from nothing, create alternate worlds, manipulate a personality or to introduce a new kind of love, a new kind of hate or pain or happiness or wonder or… anything we want. Through words, we can do, we can be anything we want.