Dancing with tears in limbo...
Sometimes it's hard to tell the difference between apathy and depression. I don't want to be either of those things, but for some reason I let them consume me.
I am falling / I am fading / I am drowning / Help me to breathe
That was an interesting event... Chaotic things as time passes and friends are lost to not moving on. 'Tis sad, but we live nonetheless.
"And I swear, if that clock ticks at me once more I'll tear it down!" He raged in his journal. You'd never see a man so angry with a thing again. He wrote all night, threatening the clock on the wall. It was a grandfather clock made of purple heart. It was suspended with the pendulum at eye level on a fifteen foot tall wall, between the downstairs and the balcony of his beautiful but empty victorian house. He believe this clock to be possessed by demons. "Those imps and other vile creatures," he wrote, "they peek their heads out and stare at me when my face is turned, when I write. I know they watch me, let them. I'll burn their clock-home, then we can compare our grins. Malevolent creatures anyway, deserve far worse." The clock was a family heirloom, passed to him by his mother, and to her from her grandfather. It first came to the family when his great great great great grandmother traded a gypsy a broken sailboat for it. Breaking it or getting rid of it would hurt family history. He knew that. He knew he could not possibly remove the damned ticking beast from his life, but his desire burned hotter with every swing of the pendulum. He briefly dropped his pen to brandish his hatchet, already having left finger grooves from the pressure. He went back to his writing, "So what if they'd be ashamed. I'd be free of this solitude with an instrument forged in the fires of hell." He fought his insanity to a standstill, then took his hatchet in hand. He threw it with all his might at the clock. A bloody imp fell to the ground with the hatchet lodged in his forehead, but the clock was unharmed. Any onlookers at this point would've realized that the insanity created by years of solitude with this clock drove him to manifesting reality. He lifted his pen and confirmed his defeat.
____________
A beautiful glow to ease your nerves.
I am falling / I am fading / I am drowning / Help me to breathe
That was an interesting event... Chaotic things as time passes and friends are lost to not moving on. 'Tis sad, but we live nonetheless.
"And I swear, if that clock ticks at me once more I'll tear it down!" He raged in his journal. You'd never see a man so angry with a thing again. He wrote all night, threatening the clock on the wall. It was a grandfather clock made of purple heart. It was suspended with the pendulum at eye level on a fifteen foot tall wall, between the downstairs and the balcony of his beautiful but empty victorian house. He believe this clock to be possessed by demons. "Those imps and other vile creatures," he wrote, "they peek their heads out and stare at me when my face is turned, when I write. I know they watch me, let them. I'll burn their clock-home, then we can compare our grins. Malevolent creatures anyway, deserve far worse." The clock was a family heirloom, passed to him by his mother, and to her from her grandfather. It first came to the family when his great great great great grandmother traded a gypsy a broken sailboat for it. Breaking it or getting rid of it would hurt family history. He knew that. He knew he could not possibly remove the damned ticking beast from his life, but his desire burned hotter with every swing of the pendulum. He briefly dropped his pen to brandish his hatchet, already having left finger grooves from the pressure. He went back to his writing, "So what if they'd be ashamed. I'd be free of this solitude with an instrument forged in the fires of hell." He fought his insanity to a standstill, then took his hatchet in hand. He threw it with all his might at the clock. A bloody imp fell to the ground with the hatchet lodged in his forehead, but the clock was unharmed. Any onlookers at this point would've realized that the insanity created by years of solitude with this clock drove him to manifesting reality. He lifted his pen and confirmed his defeat.
____________
A beautiful glow to ease your nerves.