heythereshootingstar
"Help me."
But there was nothing, just dark heaviness, just the too-heavy too-cold blankets she couldn't pull high enough to drown herself in. No response. Nobody there. No life. No backup. No fail-safe. No lifeline.
System failure.
Loud, overwhelming, booming sound. You are compressed into a tiny ball by a thousand beating wings assaulting every sense. There is nothing but noise.
Warm as anything, deep as anything. Dark and snug. She feels the wind tug gently at her hair but her body is sheltered. So protected. All above is a circular window of the sky framed by black leaves and branches. In the middle, the moon.
She empties herself out constantly, rationalising, categorising, sorting, but there's always more inside. She's empty but she's still so full.
To cap off a fine evening, they walked through the empty botanic gardens and kissed by the river under the stars.
She's getting careless now. It's been long enough and she hasn't been caught. Too much hassle to clean them up like she did, to bag the bloodied tissues and hide the blade. Too much effort to stop the blood ruining her clothes again. She sits back and sinks into the glorious numb calm that comes with pain.
Make your report on how the universe stands tonight. This many deaths. This many accidents. These controversies. Politics playing like a soap opera. The stock market. Real life stories. Thanks for the heads up; if you need to find me, I'll be deep deep under my covers, hiding from the world.
It's all about fine lines, careful drawing, no smudges, no mistakes. Insane precision. Perfect models. All beautifully prepared. But don't get emotionally attached to what you create; it can be torn apart in seconds.
Life is complicated.
Rumbling and whirring. Close to the road. I could feel it through the floor with my feet. That's the best thing about an old car. Being able to feel the speed and the ground as you go. Feeling the power shaking and threatening to break apart the chassis, but never managing to.
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