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Scars

Steam Community :: :: Never Ending Hell (Cry Of Fear)




4:30…

An image of yesterday keeps recurring on this eternal present as I sit on this plank that looks like a bench in my park. It used to be our park, but now it’s just mine. In not so far away from where I sit, I see images of how we used to be. Images so clear and etched in my memories that the gravity of my thoughts and emotions forces it to appear in the present... 

Very light drizzles of rain are pouring down but the good thing is that the soul tree is there to somewhat shade me from the frosty drizzles. Majestic tree, I thank thee eternally.

I called in sick today, not that I am physically sick – but my brain and heart are crazily spiraling inside me. I am sick in my soul and it is no less better than any physical disease there is. Anyway, I already told my boss of my plan and it really doesn’t matter anymore if I still adhere to policies or not. Nothing matters anyway.

While I was lost in my thoughts, Scars on Broadway started playing in my ipod… The classic guitar plucking intro never fails to pull me into a state of emptiness… While listening to the transition of notes, I was being sucked into a vacuum of infinite melancholy…

Is there anybody here? Who hears me crying? I’m dying?


It is a painful place but it’s peaceful as well. I never thought that it’s actually possible to find momentary peace in your pain. I have drawn the line on sand where not even the waves can reach it. Nobody’s here… no one will ever be here… I’ve got to learn that now.

Just passing the time, wondering how two people will ever survive… 

I haven’t been out in the morning for a long time. My light brown eyes have always been sensitive to light, most especially now that I have stayed in the darkness, sitting for a very long time. The creepy thing about being in the dark is that you lose sight of not just the physical realities surrounding you, but also you lose track of time. Lying there seems like forever. Asking questions about why I deserve to be damned like this.

whoring down your whoring streets, it’s killing You while you're killing me 

It's time, to show all you people you'll never survive 

Whoring down your whoring street, it’s Killing you while you're killing me. 

Well I am not a whore. (thanks for pointing that out Scars on Broadway). 

And you see where I’m heading with this? Nothing.

I just want to write cuz I don’t know what to do anymore.

Thanks for reading.

Is there anybody here?
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