the bite and sting on my skin reminds me i'm alive. it reminds me that i'm still here, even if only half a soul. seeing the the vibrancy of each stroke reminds me that i'm human. i can live and i can die. and that power is in my hands.
the belt around my neck reminds me of the fragility of life. one moment you can be breathing and the next you could be dreaming dead. the leather bites into the soft spots of my skin reminding me that i can feel.
the scars along my thighs and arm remind me of my mind- and what a cruel unforgiving place it has become. i question everyone and everything. each one reminds me of the mistakes i make, and the flaws i possess.
the salty tears that run down my face remind of the water, it's such a great place to go. but a horrible way to die. swallowing the hiccups and the pain in my uneven breaths, i realise one thing.
even when i trick and try to fight my brain's stormy tides, i will always be inevitably a
goner.
gon·er (gô′nər, gŏn′ər)
n. slang
One that is ruined or doomed.
