Untitled

It always starts the same exact way, with the unreadable credits rolling and the three second shot of you walking away. At first it was confusing. Then it became annoying. And now it hardly makes a difference. Sometimes, it doesn't even bother me that I don't know how it ends.

On some days I can hear a shot ring out at the very end. But usually, it ends when the shouting begins. Or maybe I just don't hear it over the din. I can't decide which I would rather wake up from. None, definitely, but unfortunately that isn't exactly an option.

I went back home the other day. Funnily enough, I still call it home sometimes. Though I guess I'll stop after a while. After all, it hasn't even been an entire year. I curse and scream a lot lesser, or at least, that's what I'd like to believe. I never cried.

The first time, it was nothing more than a nightmare. The next few times were enough to make me wonder. And now it's just part of the whole routine. Just a part of me. Like a song that won't go away.

After a few months I told them that they had stopped completely, because I was tired of the sympathy in their eyes. Fools. Well, at least they let me stick around. And I guess I should be grateful. It's not like I have a lot of homes to choose from. One's already nothing more than rubble.

Sometimes I wonder if you're still alive. There. I had to say it. I know it's silly and saying it out aloud just makes me feel stupid. But I do wonder. And I know all of us do. Of course it isn't something anyone will ever dare say. But I know it's true. Especially the kid, but then again she was always a little too optimistic.

I suppose they'll stop. The dreams I mean. They better anyhow. Not that it bothers me anymore, but it keeps me here. And it makes me wait. I don't like waiting. They'll stop. After all, it hasn't even been a year...

Adieu

What's the point?

Of arguing, waiting, yelling, sighing, crying, fighting, trying, explaining, bleeding, dying, pretending...?

Whatever happens, happens.

Deceive or be deceived.
Shoot or be shot.
Lie or be lied to.
...
Leave or be left behind...

Give me a cigarette, a light and I'd be quite content walking in the rain.

Adieu.

Not my decision

And so it begins.

Again.

The same old circle.
Spiral.
Tornado.
The same fucking story.
Whatever.

I don't care anymore.
I won't care anymore.
It's supposed to be over.

The decision wasn't mine to make in the first place, was it?
Never was...
But I accepted it.
I made my peace.
I'm done.

I refuse to fall back into the same role.
That movie's over.
I don't want to play that character anymore.
She's not who I am.
I'm not who she was.
I'm who she became, and she doesn't belong in this story anymore.

....
...Not like that's going to change anything.
Everything is still going to happen as it wants to.
Or whatever wants it to.
Or whoever the hell wants it to.
I don't fucking know.
It's not my decision to make.
I can only decide whether to care or not.
And I've made my choice.



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