Even though none of it is that spectacular.
This is where it begins, he tells me. But I don’t believe him.
I let him think I agree, solely for the fact that it’s not worth it to let him believe otherwise. Being at all and in any way similar to him is the last thing I want. Therefore, it’s in both of our best interest when I jutt my head sharply (in what could be perceived as a nod) and take a step forward into the pitch black engulfing darkness.
I step funny and am thrown to the floor instantly. It feels like sand from where I sit, and it causes sharp stinging sensations all along my now exposed legs.
How wrong could a single person be? There are beginnings before and after this, but none as convienient as when we say they are.
He falls down beside me. I wish to retch.