The Little Death
DescriptionI don't know how to describe this
|This writing has been rated by 1 members, resulting in a rating of 88.6% overall. Below is a breakdown of these results:|
|Spelling & Grammar:||88%|
Whats that sound? It's your little death coming. Taking you over. Consuming you. Your little death is always there with you, but he doesn't come out until something makes him. Every time your little death comes, you die a little bit. Your little death isn't part of your body. He's a part of your heart, and your mind, and your soul. I love my little death. He comes a lot to me. The little death makes you feel a certain way. It is the feeling when you are crying so hard he hurts your throat and you choke. He's the feeling where you can't move and get out of you bed and do anything all day. He is despair. He is self pity. Your little death huddles up next to you on the floor while you scream and beg and claw your cheeks, all with tears running down your cheeks and into your mouth and your ears. Your little death is the dryness in your mouth and the pounding in your head. Your little death is the hollow, empty feeling and the sickening rush in your stomach from anger, and jealousy, and hopelessness. My little death has often come to me. Sometimes when he comes, I'm glad to see him. Sometimes, it is a shock that he has come. Little death, I love you. He's always with us. Everyone's little death is slightly different. And each person's little death comes at different times, for different reasons. He is so strong and forceful, it is nearly hard to describe him. You can't escape him. Some people think you can battle him, avoid him, be rid of him. But you can't. You have to welcome him, embrace him. He is a part of you. A part of your life. A part of our death.