"...If I am even able to forgive anymore. Is the risk of trying again worth it? Is there a reason why I should continue? If there is... I'd really like to hear it."
He proposed these questions, and a number of variations thereof, to his reflection many times over from dusk 'til dawn. He knew he wouldn't get any sleep tonight. His stomach felt as if it were trying to tear itself in two, his lungs strained to breathe, and he thought that if he didn't hit himself in the chest every so often, his heart would just give up and stop beating. It was the usual insomnia and the usual pain. The wound was torn open again and he couldn't stop the bleeding.
Patience. That's all he needed.
Soon, the hemmorage would stop and he'd be strong enough to take another step forward. Another step onward. Another step away. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, as the saying goes, and some day he'd be able to walk away from it forever. That day, he imagined, was coming very soon.
 Bleeding Apocalypse · Wed Sep 06, 2006 @ 04:22am · 2 Comments |
