You were always someone peculiar, someone I could never understand – as if logic does not apply in your world. You rely on things I don't believe in, things that exceed the limits of my so-called faith.
You were always someone peculiar, someone who tried to understand – as if it would be that easy for you to just drag yourself into the world of shadows. You were fearless, like a ray of light amidst the dark, cold palace I dwelled in. You were an intruder.
And I didn't want you here.
I didn't want someone peculiar, someone who thinks he could understand – as if he was trying to save me from this crumbling castle. I was unafraid and content of the melancholy that blanketed my existence. I never thought that having you here would make me a spineless bastard.
I didn't want someone peculiar, someone who understands – every little inch of me. I didn't want to rely on you, fully knowing that it would leave me incapable of leaving you.
And I didn't want to be the one to leave.
YOU ARE READING
Word Vomit
Randoma collection/compilation of short stories, rants, prose, and poetry. Disclaimer! All the pictures r not mine but from Pinterest so ctto.
