#broken thoughts

I can hold the line.

Not from weakness. Not from desperation. But from that quiet place where the heart circles, waiting for permission to land.

She has gone distant, and I feel it. There is no soft way to name the space between us. But then she answers, and there it is again—that warmth. Small, steady, enough to reach me. Enough to remind me why I have not let go.

So I stay patient.

I keep becoming. I let the silence teach me grace. I let the wanting make me honest, not reckless. I do not chase what should come freely, and I do not demand what time may still be shaping.

Still, I want her close.

Not as an idea. Not as some passing ache. I want the real thing—the nearness, the laughter, the quiet pull of her, the feeling of being met without distance.

For now, I wait with open hands.

Heart awake. Feet planted. Eyes on the horizon.

And if time brings her nearer, I will meet her with everything genuine in me.

If it does not, I will still know I loved with patience, with restraint, and with a heart that did not turn cold just because it had to wait.

Some things are worth the distance.

but the darkness didn’t even echo him back.

that’s when he realized hell isn’t a place —

it’s the feeling of no one hearing you.

“is this really my fate?” he whispered

as blood slid down the wall

from knuckles that were just tired of fighting.

his smile used to be soft.

now it’s something sharp,

forged by the cruelty of people

who never cared to understand.

everything he touches tastes like sorrow.

the last bit of light in him?

yeah… that burned out a while ago.

he keeps wearing that stupid smile,

hoping no one notices it’s cracking.

but hope is just a trembling wick now,

fighting the dark like it’s already lost.

and every breath hurts.

every word feels borrowed.

“i don’t want to escape anymore.

i just want to be myself…

but who the hell is that now?”

it’s terrifying

when the person you miss

The hardships left the door

open, and I cannot seem to leave

just an never ending scene

of broken glass and black souls.

Somewhere mine left to be alone

but... there was no place to be free

only stiff boxes and empty glee

holed up traffic of non stop talking

about lost, or was it just desires

forgetting the wrongful criers.

They cannot see, a life and a hole

a grave with burried gold

It was in there that they

told me, sold the laughter

deep within me... replaced it

or perhaps filled it with lonely

now I am just empty.

I don't want to talk about it anymore

They slit out our tongues, and sold

it to the whole ones.

They deserved it after all

And... it's cool! I like the progression. I guess after telling JST or BST they're stupid for the 984th time you want to try something else for a change. The theme of the role-play reminds me of the War of the Roses. Royalty, marriages, violence, struggle for power, and intrigue. It's like that, but only with 39% more murder and a 100% more confusion. The story is becoming more cohesive, so good job people!

I like venting, learning, and discussing ideas. On some days I'm just vibing and even I can't make sense of what I'm doing here. Interacting with the showerfam has been great. There are a lot of really cool people in this corner of the internet. I'm not saying there aren't a few bad apples in the basket, but with the sheer number of responders that's something to be expected. 99,5% of them are smart, kind, and witty people. That's you *points at you* so give yourself a pat on the back. You're amazing.