It’s scary how quickly things can be altered in such a short span of time. I’m not one to welcome change to any degree, to be honest.

My feelings, however, remain the same. That little part of me still prickles at the edge of consciousness, a reminder that, no, things aren’t so very different. You can block out the sun, but not forever. Doesn’t it always manage to somehow come through the curtains? But this is no sun. I just get images of silver; the gun I keep hidden, then I remember that it is this feeling that kills me that has brought me to this point. I am nothing without it. I have no soul without this thing. It is a driving force, always hurtling me toward cliffs where I fall off and am born again.

But you only get so many chances. I’ve made mistakes in the past. But these heights keep growing and someday it will drive me off one that I won’t live through. It’s a comfort, because you know, I don’t think I can much take the fucking pain anymore.


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