Thoughts

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic

Chapter 7 (v.1) - im not lazy, just depressed

Submitted: December 06, 2018

Reads: 63

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Submitted: December 06, 2018

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Where do broken souls go? After they’ve been shattered and scattered to the wind. After its vessel has had enough of this world. Not able to take the torment eating away at the very soul it holds dear. The toxicity of their very mentality slowly consuming them with its black rot and decay. There is no solution. You can tell the whole world. Scream it from the roof tops, shout at every passerby. But nothing will change. The war inside of yourself may slow but it will never cease. Your mind is the problem and every solution you throw its way, its pessimistic and poisonous ways only mindlessly absorb your good intentions. Those thoughts will always be in the back of your head. Traveling down your spinal cord feeding into your chest and eating away at your precious soul. You’ll never be good enough. Never smart enough. Never fast enough. If only you had made the right decision. If only you had said yes, instead of no. If only you had been there. If only you hadn’t been to late. If only. If only. The echoes of your regretful past sound off like alarms inside your head. They’re too loud. And there’s no off switch. No silence button. All you can do is sit and soak in your self-hatred and regret and listen to your voices and wonder where do broken souls go? After they’ve been shattered and scattered to the wind. Is there someone who travels around and picks up the bits and pieces and tries to puzzle them back together? Or are they left to drift into oblivion? To settle in the night sky, nestled in between the stars. Stardust. That’s where the souls who still had time, the ones who weren’t completely consumed by their self-hatred but weren’t strong enough to fight for their remaining self, have settled. The purity of their remaining soul settled against the pitch black of the night sky. Their remaining hopes, dreams, and self-love decorating the sky. Turning what would be a black oblivion, into an astrological paradise.


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