Me and my brother, we were always together, where he would go i would follow, he did the same for me ofcourse, we shared everything, people looked at us strangely and wouldn’t really understand but we didn’t care for all the fun we had. We had the time of our lives until the doctors decided to seperate our conjoined bodies.
He says, “you breathe 25,000 times a day and expect to only love once in your life.”
But he does not know that I am ghost.
The last human on earth sat in his kitchen, contemplating life. Just as he was about to pull the trigger, there was a knock at the door…
I saw the lights in the night sky suddenly started dancing and the winds were stirring. I tried to walk but only one foot moved, to reach but only one hand moved, and then they caught me as I fall.
Drunk, the boys took out a revolver— imitating the infamous Russian Roulette scene from “The Deer Hunter”. It ended sooner than they thought.
He fell to his knees and they cracked under his weight.
Above him the sky burned on.
My story, as I know it, might end today; my thoughts are always lost, always dirty, always mean. My life was never good enough, I was never good enough.
The world is beautiful with tears in my eyes. What could it be without?
A story can be told pages, in years, in a breath, in a gesture, or even a single look. In this case, it takes two sentences.
How quick the skycotton cloud goes through a relentless remould while retaining it’s totality. How honest the unendomed sky reflects our going of grey-and-gold and life’s futility.
Near the end of his life, he searched through the motives behind all of the stupid things he had done. When it was not carelessness, it was loneliness.
One afternoon, she went to the store and unexpectedly bought almost 12 months of memories. They weren’t on sale and definitely can’t be returned.
He told me just to stop and take a breath. As if my drowning was by choice.