People are sick, rotted fucks. The very epitome of shit and lies. Every second you spend in their presence one feels their self worth festering and seething inside squirming intestines and vitals.
You walk upon this ashen earth with a yearning for a mortal savior to drag you out from the darkened void that eats away at your flesh. Stripping long fragments of skin away from the meat, picking away at scabs that attempt to heal the open wounds that drip profusely a thick, crimson river.
And from out of the shadows you see the light approach, her smile as sweet as the crescent moon above, eyes cast a warmth that makes your heart tickle, voice like a violin amidst a deep crescendo. All fear seeps away, and a feeling of happiness soaks into your bones, sweet nothings cradling your ears with promises of eternal pride and a life lived not alone.
You feel yourself repaired evermore with each soft kiss and each intimate fuck. The nightmares of the past locked away in the wake of the passion and love felt today. You love it, you need it, you don't ever want to let it go. Doing anything at any cost to see that angel smile, to feel the heat inside your chest as you know it was you that brought yet another moment of amusement into their life. You're goal ever clearer to make every moment worth living with them.
Months pass by determined as ever, the world ever changing beneath life and it's intentions. Yet you take it on with a clear paste smile, taking everything in stride with a soul that glows with the glory found only in peace. Yet clearly as good moments come, we all know we are monsters, the sick, twisted freaks who find humor and entertainment out of the crucifixion of others.
Your personal morals are tested, a strange underlying sense of dread stabbing at your side like a large, viscous thorn. Embedding a small voice inside of your skull, feeding you truths you see only as lies. The stress begins to build. Paranoia gestating inside your stomach like a stillborn child.
Until you take a chance, tear open the veil so intricately placed over your eyes, blinding you to the facts and revealing the truths you lived so dearly beside as nothing more than rotted effigies of poisoned tongues and starstruck eyes.
Those many months you spent with them held taut in your arms, the sea of varied 'I love yous', the countless kisses, the assorted promises, the menagerie of sweet nothings. All lies. All just fucking lies.
There was never emotion, there was never any solace. It was all an act to protect them from the inevitable. All the while you were building them a future, they were off fucking with another deceiver. The final cut the revelation that you were never their lover, just a toy to be used as they so fit.
And the hilarious bit? You don't even know what to feel. Many pieces of your shattered mind beg for a different take on the situation. Rage. Horror. Depression. Suicide. Murder. Yet you can't focus on anything because you're still struggling to understand what the fuck happened.
Previous transgressions seem almost trivial compared to this sequel. Morals and emotions become lost betwixt the need to have them, the remains of your love, and the truth that you can never have them back. Unlike previous relationships when you're tainted love's end was accentuated with a slam of a front door, at least their was a sense of finality to it.
This though... A mental clusterfuck that leaves you with a love that has no point. And the understanding that it was all your fault. For never being enough for them, for idiotically holding on when it had already died, and not noticing the signs that it was over because you were too blind to accept that you were meant to be.
All you can do is break yourself. Shatter the love you still harbour into a thousand pieces and throw it all away. As the only thing you can do now is move on. Back into the darkness. Back into the nightmares. To never look back on that small taste of perfection, to never remember that you were just never worthy.
And move on mate, move on.
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