A death of silence is what I longed for. An escape from the prison of word-less, sound-less symphonies screeching static in my ears, driving me mad.
The death of a thousand burning lights of the hollow darkness.
I craved for a death of cold stares and empty hearts. For rooms filled with laughter and the echo of dancing souls.
I longed for a death of lonely afternoons in the cafe, waiting for someone who was gone far, faaaar away…
D E A T H
I craved a death of existence.
The existence of all things that pierced my heart like shards.
Just one death.
But maybe I was demanding too much. Maybe the shooting star had something entirely different in mind. And as I tried hard to figure out what the flames around me were trying to engulf, I started feeling the burn.
It was in that moment that I realised. I realised.
I finally realised.
I craved death. A death of all things beautiful that I couldn’t have.
A death of all the smiles that I just couldn’t enjoy.
Yes, I was turning dark. Going mad. I had grown to like the bars around me. I was cold. I was bitter.
I craved death.