When internal wounds which had never ached before started bleeding, I remembered what my dentist once told me, when my gums were bleeding: "This is infected blood. It's good to let it out." So I stood confident. It's okay, I used to tell myself. But day after day, the ground I was standing was falling apart and I was growing stranger and stranger.
"Don't worry, it's infected blood, you have to let it out!" he said to me when he hurt me for the millionth time. But I was already immune. I already knew it was good to refresh- from feelings to mind and blood. "Make up your mind and make up your face." Why not?
My body was nothing but a human ashtray, where strangers extinguished their each and every cigarette. My flesh was nothing but a prison the demons loved to live in. I was nothing but another shade of grey.
He was nothing but another act of my mind. The courtain had fallen, covering him with my remorse. The final act. We loved each other in the anteroom of death, during the afternoon of life. He was worshipping life, while I was fearing death. That led me astray. That was why he doubted our compatibility.
I never did. I just needed. A light, a shade, a look. Anything I could rely upon in order to come back to the life I had long forgotten. I loved him, he loved me not. Our love was like a no leaf clover. It might as well have been lucky, but it had no chance to win, as it lacked its own true self.
I should let the demons out, they're no good for my health. I'm seventeen and dying on the inside, though I desperately want to live, I desperately hold on to anything. Wishing upon stars, glancing in the blink of an eye on the pale moonlight, swaying on a ray of sun. Does that make us happy? Just for a while. But demons don't emprison us for a while. They're here to stay. Maybe they're the only ones not to ever give up on us.
I used to fall in love with illusions, but then I moved on to people nobody looked at, because they were ugly. Ugly appearences hide beautiful essences. Soon, I will no longer love. I will no longer long for another presence around me. I have enough of them gathered inside. None of of those who came in my life are ever gone. They adapt to those demons and dig on the inside until it bleeds.
And then it aches for the very first time. And the blood is welcome, as it clears suffering. It would say "It's almost over, hold on!" Oh, but how I know... it's only just begun.
Shall it be morning, afternoon or night... there's no better time to love than this very moment. I hate schedules. I threw them all when I saw people suffering from cancer checking the days they were left on schedules. Not real ones, but some which felt the biological clock ticking on the inside. I gave them all up. A schedule makes you aware of the life which passes you by. And I don't want to feel it, I want to live it. To live for now.
I wish I could love someone right now, but no dream can heal a broken heart.
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