saachosaurus

saachosaurus

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and there i was, in the middle of it all. the deafening roar of meaningless noise, people swarmed all around me. breathing became more and more difficult to the point where, with every step, i was being dragged down. and there was no coming back up.

aura

There was something about her, something incredibly intriguing. Almost difficult to pinpoint, and so beautiful.

She was so far gone, so high up in these false clouds. Every day, waiting for something. Waiting for a sign, waiting for him. So far gone, she couldn't see how far she was about to fall.

He held the tape in his hands, palms sweating as he gripped it with every ounce of his being. "You wouldn't." she snarled. "Oh yes, I most definitely w-would." he uttered, licking his lips and glancing over the edge. Suddenly, she lunged forwards, hand outstretched. And with a single breath, he let go. Falling. Falling.

What makes a narrative? A train of honest thoughts, pouring out onto the page? A silent observer, carefully watching and saving their breath for a blank canvas? An imperfectly perfect human, full of flaws; breathing, living, thinking. Freedom, with the world encased in a single page.

All of my thoughts contradicted each other, nothing made any sense. I found myself slipping, unable to determine the difference between reality and false facts and ideals. My mind is poison, and there is no escaping the constant question: Who am I?

Abandoned. Hurt. Alone. Loneliness. That's a hard place to be. In the depths of loneliness. Sort of like there's this great big looming grey cloud over you just nagging and pulling at you. Never quite letting you enjoy the shards of serenity you're able to scrape at.

The smiles, the laughter, the cheers and shouts. No real way to describe the feeling of sharing those victories, teasing the losses. The sense of unity, of familiar belonging, found only within the smallest of pleasures.

"H-help!" she yelled, the salty water splashing into her mouth. "C-c-can't swim! P-please!" she struggled to shout, shivering and spluttering.

sound

All around him, there was no escaping it. His head pounded incessantly, refusing to stop. There was a ringing in his ears, growing louder and louder. "PLEASE! STOP IT!" he screamed, hysterical. There was no end, and nothing he could do.

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writing since 2012 · 20 entries · 19 days shown up

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saachosaurus wrote about narrative
“What makes a narrative? A train of honest thoughts, pouring out onto the page? A silent observer, carefully watching and saving their breath for a blank canvas? An imperfectly perfect human, full …”

the words saachosaurus reaches for

riseagainstthoughtsalonehurthandsprocedurestopfarwaitingprovehardestpossiblebringcompletelyhimself