Rage. Sensual, flowing freely, caressing my skin, tempting me to do things that cloud the shining light of judgement. Black temptress, she lingers still, locking herself into he deepest orifices of my mind, rooting there and spreading, spreading like some evil disease. Succumbing slowly, I realize I've lost. My mind gives up. No more fight left, I collapse, facade all that's left of me. I ache, ache, ache for something real, something tangible to grasp, to help me through this. A single thought releases her grotesque grip on me. Hope. A shining arrow pierces her flailing tendrils, severing them from her bosom. She falls, back into her crevice, to wait, to plot, to stew, to takeover another day.
Lethargy. Much more blunt than rage, it waits till you are beaten down, then assaults you like a ton of bricks, throwing itself against your collective conscience. I crush under its weight, blanketed by a fog of nothingness. Empathy deserts me, and hope does nothing to ease the pressure of defeat. Lost, I flounder.
Lost. Lost, lost, lost, lost, lost, lost, lost. Depression, lethargy, confusion, rage, defeat, fatigue. A lethal cocktail of emotions, felt every bit as strongly as love, hope, laughter, joy. My soul is crushed. Help me please? This path scares me, even though I may not show it. This tough outer exterior crumbles under the slightest touch. I don't want to break down. I don't want to cry. I don't want to feel anymore. You all don't care. Simply another problem lost in the cosmic flow of time and energy. I count for nothing in your worlds. I will wither, and you will watch, not even knowing that you are watching the destruction of a person's very core, the very reason they exist. I hope you enjoy the show.
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Obsidian Optimism
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Me. I'm not too exciting.
CANADIAN
How do you explain something that doesn't exist to a man whose life is built on illusion?
CANADIAN
How do you explain something that doesn't exist to a man whose life is built on illusion?