Last night after midnight I was watching all this fucking shit about the cosmic dimensions and the higher dimensions and how to be a God, I got a headache from the loud gloomy metal music here, my parents weren't even at home, my father was in Italy and my mother was in the backyard of the old aunt's house , There is no more amusement for one to have than to talk to oneself, so I played my favorite game, while thousands of minutes passed in the process, and paused after a severe headache and soreness in the extremities, finding myself a boring person at the end, but good for girls nonetheless.
And so, with the twilight of the silver hour, the white night ended, and the yellow morning came, I awoke at ten o'clock and, as I ought every day, I must push myself to live again.
And winter was in my hands, and my chest too The bathroom, the kitchen, the patio, the balcony, I water the flowers planted in a half-bottle of an old Solara perfume, I go back to the courtyard and so I seem to breathe with my eyes, the situation in my room is shameful, and I feel dissatisfied with returning to it, but I had to.
As I had to complete that story stuck in my mind, start the first lines, feel disgusted by talking about love, then sleepy, then fall asleep and this is how the days and weeks and life pass, disgusting, even violent, how does a person grow up so fast, so slow But I later realized that a person grows with the number of disappointments, not the number of days, and gets smaller in the size of love, the love he received even from a wooden cat, and that is why I hate cats, and so does love.
I sat on the couch doing nothing, just walking away in my place, until I heard Maka's call , I popped my head out of the window
"Damn, I'm coming"
YOU ARE READING
Hellvean
RomanceLiterally no one knows that writing has a complex relationship with madness, do you think that one enjoys headaches, tingling, bubbling, and painful loneliness, no one does or at least I don't.. You are skinny, miserable, lonely, and crazy about wri...
