21st december


1. 21st december


the world is ending, everyone says.

just 4 days to go.

we're all going to die.

but everyone is so calm about it, so undisturbed -i think it's because we're all already dead, dead inside, our hearts pumping blood black with fear and pain.

it drips down our face when we're alone at night, and we try desperately to sleep but the demons are out, they come out to play when all you want is it to stop, to go away...

our hearts are black and blue, but still pulsing gently. worn on your sleeve, making it so easy for a stranger to cruelly snatch. we walk the streets as ghosts but we're haunted ourselves. just looking for a hand to hold, a chance to feel alive again.

you wonder when it will end, the pain, the torture, the death, or if it will just carry on for as long as you live.

some days are okay, you forget the rest. but then a demon springs up, a hurricane here, a shooting there, and the world is cast in bright light. we all doubt each other, yet rely on each other to survive. is there anything more messed up than that? we claim to trust no one but ourselves but most of us hardly trust ourselves, plagued with anxiety and illness and hormones are rife, emotions and the like.

'sweetheart, this is life.' we are told, and we get on with it, because that's what you do.

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