Some days just don’t feel right. The sun streams through the blinds at an unfamiliar angle, you walk as if your legs belong to someone else, you search for some elusive feeling that seems like it could be in reach — but it drifts outwards with every breath you take, as if your own exhalation is gently pushing it away.
There is a certain breed of sadness that preys only on
those in solitude. Most days, he paces in the back of your mind, letting out
the occasional snarl when you shake your head, disturbing his dark home. But on
those days that don’t feel right, he comes out quietly and caresses your bare
heart with his bared teeth like a paralyzing sadness that would rather see you wounded
than see you dead. Evil, evil creature.
You’re confused. You’re drifting. You could be happy if
that is what you decided to be, but this certain breed of sadness is sometimes
all you’ve got, and you just don’t have it in you to hurt him.
-B.
-B.
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