i have a jar filled with petals now, filled to the brim. the petals were white and red, some stained with my own blood. it hurt, and it reminded me of my love for them. i wished that i could rip it out from my heart and lungs, throw it away, and never look at it ever again.
i never thought that i would get this disease- at least not so soon. I don't want to die such a pathetic death over love. i tried to get the blood stains off from those petals, yet they didn't budge. was it a reminder that my life was being taken away?
i felt angry. sad. worried. disgusted. annoyed. a myriad of emotions overwhelmed my whole being. the jar taunted me, as if saying that i would never have their love. how could you think this way? how could you feel this way for him, for them? foolish. idiot. stupid. stupidstupidstupidstupid-
i picked it up, and hurled it to the ground in a fit of rage. broken glass and petals lay on my floor, and i could feel a few more coming up from my throat. i coughed for a few minutes straight, blood splattering out along with a few more petals. how painful.
staring at the mess i made, i bit my lip, the taste of blood on my tongue. these petals were a reminder of my unrequited love. i bent down, picking one of them up with my fingers. yet, they reminded me of my love for them, something i didn't want to let go of, ever.
thus, i picked them up one by one, uncaring of the glass which left small cuts on my fingers. i placed them into a new jar and tucked them under my bed, never to be seen again.
DON'T: republish, copy, translate my work.
IF: my work is on any other platform / you see another book like this, please inform me.