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Irony

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December.
His eyes are fiery ice.
The scars on your legs tingle without any contact whatsoever, and your heart suddenly breaks in two without ever healing in the first place.


January.
You think, idly, that the irony in life is simply unbelievable. It's so ridiculous that, if irony were a living breathing organism you'd snap its neck. The situation was dripping with irony and in your mind you imagine Irony as a rather annoying bird, flapping its brightly-colored feathers in your face, mocking you.
After all the years of wishing he was dead, you finally got what you wanted.
Irony smirks at you, and you hate it even more because it's right.


February.
The cold has come and never left.
It found you on the day no one mourned his death and has made its home in your heart ever since.
You smile and you laugh like you're really okay but your insides are steadily freezing and you vaguely wonder what it was like to be warm in the first place.


March.
You hate him for what he did to you.


April.
The spring has come, but he is still gone.
You hate him for leaving you.


May.
Flowers bloom.
You hate yourself for being stupid, for being naive and letting him hurt you.


June.
The sun is warm, and you are tired of being cold.
You hate your mother for not protecting you.


July.
The heat scorches. You learn not to shiver.
You hate Time for moving on without you.


August.
The summer blazes.
He does not come back.


September.
School. Your friends watch you with sad eyes.
You do not speak.


October.
The cool atmosphere soothes you.
You sometimes forget to breathe.


November.
Nothing.


December.
Icy wind blows.
Your breath comes short.
Irony rears its ugly head but this time all you can do is laugh. And laugh, and laugh, and laugh...


January.
Spring overtakes winter within you.
Irony rests.





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