“It’s because it’s the beginning, and also the end. That was what she loved about the place where the water met the land. A promise of something fresh, a suggestion that even if what is happening now is to be suffered, there is an end and a beginning.”
― Jacqueline Winspear, Messenger of Truth
A cold spring day. Meeting friends, walking in the freezing wind, shaping thoughts of life. Adrenaline pumping through the veins. Listening to them talk, giving advice. Don’t forget to smile. Make a few jokes. A good show. For them. Anything to make them feel good. Anything to make them smile.
Loneliness starts creeping behind the back on the way home. The wind emphasizing a hostile world. Surviving. The path gets darker, the bones freezing. The key turns into the lock. Finally. Back in the cage. Sweet solitude. A blade sitting on the nightstand, waiting. Hello old friend. An endless fight. Do not give in. Does it matter if they don’t know? Does it matter at all?
A tidy kitchen. Everything has its spot. Constantly cleaning after every grain of salt. Control. Everything is under control.
Dust piling up on the floor. Doesn’t matter. A lost cause.
Remembering every nice moment. Every single detail. Where did all those feelings go? Turning around every memory, looking, thinking, analysing, tearing it apart until there is nothing left. All the things you did wrong. All the things you said. All the things that could have been.
Emptiness.
They don’t know. Would they care?
Looking for a connection. Someone who cares enough to see. But they do. They just don’t see it. Hiding in plain sight. Who would want a broken soul? Lost for so long and yet there it is. A familiar titillation. The safety of a dark hole.
Hormones fighting in the body. The whole being against the brain. Surviving. Tring to. Not even Metis survived. There was never a chance to begin with. However, what remained was part of her. What remained was struggle. For a new beginning, there needs to be an end.
Aromatic deception 