𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑬𝑳

Sometimes it's nice. Quiet. Time for me to be alone.

I spiral easily. So. Other times I start thinking. Usually when I dont overhelem myself eith bright lights. After 9pm, whatever I could possibly be thinking so deeply about only ever ends in tears

So I try and stop it but. I cant

But in this hotel room, theres no gacha reaction bullshit or anything to keep me from beating myself with a stick

So I just. Scroll to messages when I felt genuinely happy and try not to say anything pathetic.

Being an insecure person is so awful. Second guessing everything. And when people tell you its fine you still second guess.

Many have tried to reach the surface over the centuries, but they always float back down. It's too far up to swim without rest, your tail tires out, it's too bright to see where you are going, they always end up turning back down without noticing.

You don't know why they try to reach the surface though, the sea floor is much to beautiful to risk not coming back.

Everything looks like an iridiscent dream, the light bounces off of every surface and creates lights from all the colours one could imagine, the small ripples in the water giving the illusion of forms that aren't there. There is not a single dark corner, everything is covered by light and thousands of colours. You like that. The beautiful lights, the colourful fish, the soft sand...

You don't like the voice though. It's soft and familiar, like your mother's whispers felt like when you faked being asleep so she wouldn't make you tidy up your room... It's nostalgic.

You don't know what it wants, but it's starting to drive you crazy. Every day, every hour, every second you can hear it, like someone shouting your name from far far away. Except it doesn't say your name, maybe it didn't feel the need to learn it, it just tells you to swim.

Sometimes you ignore it, sometimes it drives you so crazy you go swimming in the middle of the night so that it will shut up.

You don't know what to do, you don't want to tell your friends and family, they'll call you crazy, they'll kicyou out of the colony, or worse...

No, it wouldn't happen, they wouldn't do it. But they could, so you keep quiet.

Months pass and the voice only becomes louder. You have already shunned yourself so that no one finds out, but you are starting to believe that they suspect something is going on...

They are conspiring against you...

You are not crazy. You are not. Your body doesn't itch and it also doesn't twitch. Your voice doesn't tremble and neither do your eyes. You aren't losing weight, you just aren't really hungry, and the voice makes you move a lot, you are just losing all that extra fat your mom used to say tha neighbouring girl had.

You aren't crazy, you are just...tired. Sleep will do you some good, the voice doesn't talk to you when you sleep. You dream of swimming, of rainbow fishes and colourful rocks, you dream of the voice. But it doesn't tell you to swim this time. This time the voice sounds firm, authoritarian, and it tells you to go up.

You wake up in a cold sweat. Everything is blurry, others would say you looked like you where in a frenzy, but there was noone out that night. You start to swim as if possessed. Maybe you are, the voice screams at you louder each time you seem to slow down.

So you go up, pass the colourful rocks, pass the rainbow fish, pass the life you've you've been building for years.

You don't think, you can't, it feels like a dream, but it isn't, isn't it? It's real. You wish it wasn't.

You swim, you don't see the bottom anymore.

You swim, it's been a while since you last saw life.

You swim, your tail gets tired, but the voice doesn't let you stop.

You swim, you are pretty sure days have passed since you started swimming.

...

You swim, you are hungry, you don't really feel it, you can keep going.

You swim, the light is really bright now, all you can see it's white.

You swim.

You swim.

You swim.

You sw-.

You stop swimming.

There is something above you, the voice has gone silent for the first time in a long, long time. You are starting to process everything that has happened in the last days.

How strange. When did that happen?

Above you the water is impenetrable, it's still liquid, but you can't cross.

...

You keep trying.

You need to cross.

You don't know why.

But you NEED to cross.

YOU NEED TO CROSS YOU NEED TO CROSS YOU NEED TO CROSS YOU NEED TO CROSS YOU NEED TO CROSS YOU NEED TO CROSS

You can't cross.

You start hitting the water.

It's keeping you from the other side, from the surface.

That's strange, you don't know why you know that.

You keep hitting.

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The water breaks.

You cross.

The surface is beautiful.

You had heard stories about the 'sky'. They said that it was a place even the surface couldn't reach. But you are seeing it. Rather than seeing the sky, you are in it. The entire universe is around you, stars, galaxies, planets...

And, in front of you, a beach, there is nothing special about it. The sand is white; the grain, fine. There is nothing more.

Until you hear it again. The voice, though now it sounds near.

There is a figure in the beach now. It's cloaked in darkness, but underneath you can see a blinding light, brighter than anything you have ever seen.

"Is this a god?" You ask yourself. The voice answers for you, not with words, but with actions. The water goes stiff, like how it was before, and you realise you can't move, you don't WANT to move.

The figure approaches, it's bigger now, more sinister....

It's in front of you now, you manage to see behind the cloak that shadows it and past the blinding light before the world turns dark for the first time in your life...

♔ || MIU IRUMA ICONS

250x250 || bpd hypersexual || bordered circle

like / rb + credit + read dni if using

WROTE THIS AT 5AM AND CRIED A LIL SO HERE GOES

Again, the clock strikes time that is forbidden. 

The time my mind’s afraid but never runs.

Shame of something that has not yet happened.

I know it will,

Because it always does.

Anatomy has cursed me with an essence,

Much rather I’d prefer not to be sexed.

Never to notice, never to feel sorry 

For what will happen- always- if those qualities I do possess.

And while I vomit into my own conscience, 

I feel a thrill that mustn’t be discussed;

It lives.

But only for the moment 

When I indulge in self-destructive acts.

I feel no pity. 

I’m egoistical in mortal second.

And then- I’m back to being who I am.

A pervert.

Hidden, in the vessel of a Mary,

That hangs above me like a guillotine.

I reek of weakness, blood of those imagined.

I’m poisoned. Suicidal rot, 

Where stop signs should have been.

Again.

I slip inside again to check

if there is something left worth saving.

One day, the halo will collapse