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He always felt empty. He doesn’t remember a recent time where he felt truly alive, bursting with love and simple happiness, only managing to come up with the times he’s felt desolate- lonely, cold, and dry. Sure, he has blood running through his veins- but is he living, just for that reason? He hoped not- after all, that’d be boring, and akin to a puppet being led by strings.
Out of nowhere, about a week or two of his existential thinking, color flooded his life. The type of color that makes you reel back and recoil just from how bright it is- how sweet and loud and absolutely terrifying it is. His eyes wide with, at first- horror, and then wide with confusion and terror and the type of feeling that makes you think oh-god-i’m-dying-please-help. He felt absolutely strangled and the feeling returned everytime he saw them.
Them, the color that burst through his life. They were gold and bright and loud and terrible but amazing at the same time, making him heave and gasp for breath- relief from the heavy stone being lifted, but yet he still felt suffocated. They were too bright, too much, but he wanted more- was this being selfish, because this was amazing but terrifying. Terrifying, because thoughts invaded his mind that he doesn’t remember having, such as ‘oh god, they’re amazing’ and ‘oh god, i’m amazing.’
He was so selfish, and he knew that. But- he found life and he wanted more, he wanted the blood in his veins and arteries and heart to be more than just salt and plasma, more than a simple thing keeping his heart beating. He was so selfish but he couldn’t get enough- not enough there wasn’t enough. Thus, he attempted to keep his distance from them. But they kept finding him and giving him life and love and god, help him, because he didn’t think he would recover once they leave him. Leave him, they did.
Leave, leave, leave, god why’d they leave? It was so sudden- all too sudden- much too sudden. The feeling left him, but god it left a trail of destruction and hope and hopelessness and nothing could repair him. It was quiet and dull and yet still so terrifying, as if they just left the bad parts and took the shimmering golden and loud and happy and amazing parts with them.
He wanted to breathe, god strike him down, but he couldn’t find the words to command his body to work and work and work, he couldn’t find the actions to find them in the clouds or the stars where they didn’t belong, it was too quiet there for their loud, golden and bright and terrifying soul. He couldn’t breathe properly and a new feeling arose- the feeling that makes you think ‘oh-god-i’m-falling’ and jerk awake, except he wasn’t awakening he was still asleep.






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