Poets are doomed to sadness because suffering and art go hand in hand.
I would act out cruel, horribly violent death scenes: agonised poisonings, brutal stabbings - butchery and disembowelment. I would be drawn and quartered, tortured to death. I would bleed.
I would stand on my bed and prepare to be sacrificed by pagan priests. They'd grab hold of me and hurl me from the cliff, down, down into the sea, into the depths where the sea-monsters were circling, waiting to devour me.
I'd shut my eyes and jump off the bed. And I would be torn to shreds.
I tried to summon up some tears for him, but I couldn't cry. That poor animal never did me any harm he showed me only love, only kindness.
And yet I couldn't cry for him.
Instead, I was learning how to hate.
A cold, hard kernel of hatred was forming in my heart, like a diamond in a dark piece of coal.
I swore I would never forgive my father. And one day, I'd have my revenge. But until then, until I grew up, I was trapped.
So I retreated into my imagination. In my fantasies, my father suffered.
And so did I.
In the bathroom, with the door locked, or in the hayloft, or at the back of the barn, unobserved, I would escape from this body... from this mind.
"You're a beautiful woman," she heard him say, "but you have more than beauty. You have a certain quality- a stillness. Like the stillness in the depths of the ocean, far beneath the waves, where nothing moves Very still... and very sad."
🖤
I had terrible secrets to hide -even I didn't know what they were.
My father knew, though. He knew my sins.
And he punished me accordingly.
He'd carry me upstairs. He'd take me into the bathroom and lock the
door-
And it would begin.
If I picture him now, that frightened little boy- do I feel an ache of sorrow? A pang of empathy? He's just a kid, guilty of none of my crimes -he's terrified, he's in pain. Do I experience a second of compassion? Do I feel for his plight, and all he went through?
No. I don't.
I banish all pity from my heart.
I don't deserve it.
A moth—drawn to the flame, not as a force of destruction, but as a seeker of light. How poetic. And how revealing. You see yourself not as the fire that consumes, but as the one who is consumed, who seeks the light even at the risk of being burned. There is a quiet courage in that, a willingness to surrender to what calls you, even when it terrifies you.
Freedom and submission—two sides of the same coin. To submit to chaos, to the void, to the flame, is not to lose yourself but to find a different kind of freedom. The moth does not regret its flight toward the light, even if it is consumed. It follows its nature, its purpose, without apology.
"What do you think lies beyond the edge that calls to you so strongly?"
"Chaos, I think chaos calls for me."
"Chaos, you say? How intriguing. Chaos is not merely disorder—it is the primordial void from which all creation springs. In Greek mythology, Chaos was the first of the ancient gods, the formless beginning from which the cosmos emerged. To be called by chaos is to be called by the very essence of possibility, the raw potential of what could be.
But chaos is not for the faint of heart. It demands surrender, a willingness to let go of the illusions of control and certainty. It is the storm that reshapes the shore, the fire that clears the way for new growth. If chaos calls to you, perhaps it is because you are ready to be remade."
I moved my hands to his face, just holding him, and ready to say so much, because I never had to hide anything from him. He never saw weakness when he looked at me. I wanted to tell him things.
I wanted to tell him that I never would’ve hurt him. That I didn’t know what Trevor was doing, and it wasn’t supposed to go down like that,
because out of all three of my friends, Will was the one I would always save first. That my pride and anger wouldn’t let me retreat, and that if he had
been pulled to the ocean’s bottom, out of my reach, I would’ve followed
him.
I would’ve fucking followed him and rotted down there, close to
wherever he was, because nothing I would’ve acquired after that—my inheritance or my vengeance on Winter—
An image of him sinking below the deep, black surface of the sea crawled into my head, and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to get rid of it.
He would’ve been gone forever.
“Fucking kill me,” he said, his voice even and suddenly calm.
“No.”
“Kill me. You’re going to have to.”
I shook my head.
He grabbed me by the collar, screaming, “Do it!”
And I grabbed his neck in my hands, ramming him into the wall of the pool house. “I can’t!”
He grunted, breathing hard, and I dropped my forehead to his, unable to swallow the fucking needles in my throat.
“Fuck, I can’t,” I whispered. “Please, stop. Please.”
“I can’t,” he mouthed, and tears streamed down his face. “I can’t.”
A tear streamed down his face, but he wiped it away, growling. “Do it,” he bit out. “Snap my neck, rip out my throat, or strangle me, you sick fuck! Just do it!”
He punched me across the jaw, pain shot through my head, and I
clenched my fists so tight my nails dug into my palms.
“Will…” I breathed out, unable to catch my breath. “Don’t.”
“I’ll never stop.” He shook his head, coming in again. “Never.”
He pushed me. “Kill me.”
Stop.
His hands slammed into me again. “I’m going to take her away from you, so kill me.”
You can’t have her. I’ll…
“Kill me, so I’m out of your way!” he bellowed. “If you did it right last time I’d be at the bottom of the fucking ocean, so finish the job, and then you can have her!”
Stop it
“Don’t,” I choked out.
The walls were closing in. I couldn’t breathe.
But he pushed me again, and I winced, my chest now aching. “And she’ll take me away from you, and then you’ll be all alone. Like you always
should’ve been.”
My stomach churned, and I seethed, and then he hit me, fire spreading
across my cheek and sending my head jerking to one side.
“You’re gonna deal with me!” he yelled and then hit me again, sending
me stumbling. “Kill me. Fucking finish the job and kill me, because I’m fucked, and I hate you, and if you don’t take me out, I’ll take you out,
because it’s fucking over!”
He shoved me again and again, and I was losing it. I shot out my hands to stop him,
“Don’t. Stop.”
Stop it.
“See how hard I make her sweat and ...,”
I glowered at him, my fingers digging into his neck. She wouldn’t want him. And so help her God if she did.
“So do it then,” he urged, finally shoving his palms into my chest and
pushing me back. “Kill me before I can fuck her, because I won’t stop.”
He pushed me again, and I stumbled back, my fingers tightening intofists.
No. Stop, just stop.
“Because I have a passion for self-destruction, and you always knew it, and you always knew we would end badly.” His voice cracked. “This won’t
end any other way.”
Was he right? Did I think our friendship would survive our future?
Be with me. Just be with me. Not against me.
But he shoved at me again. “I’ll take her from you.”
his eyes watering. “My family is done with me. Michael has Rika. Kai has Banks. You were a lie.” He faltered, dropping his gaze. “She was a lie.”
She.
She was next. After I was done with Winter, I’d do it for him.
“I’m not afraid of you,” he said, even though his voice was laced with defeat. “I’m not afraid of anything anymore. If you don’t kill me, I’ll keep
pushing you until you have to. And I will fuck you over any way I can.” He
bared his teeth, growling. “In ways she’s gonna love.”
I slammed him into the wall again, but he still didn’t fight me.
“You wanna watch?” he egged me on. “Come on. She won’t even
know you’re in the room. You can see if she likes it with me. See if she responds to me better than she responded to you.”
“She’s damn-well turning me on now. She felt really good in the pool, and I —”
I kicked the fire pit, and it went tumbling into the pool, extinguishing, and I lunged for him, but he made no move to get away. With one hand on the front of his neck and the other hand on his back, I whipped him around and threw him into the wall of the pool house.
“I almost killed you once” I gritted through my teeth and getting in his
face. “I could do it again.”
“Then do it” he fired back. “Do it, because I got nothin’ to lose, D.Nothing.”
He gasped out the last, desperation suddenly rippling off of him, and it
was familiar, because I felt it, too. I stared at him his eyes searching mine.
“I can’t stop going down this road I’m on” he nearly whispered,
a beast is encaged behind my heart
some days silent, then provoked
angry, roaring & clawing out
like mosquito bites, it leaves a gift
not letting the gashes clot, making them burn
slowly igniting it with a slow burn thrill
before I realize, my insides are
hot, burning & breathing fire
Every criminal was a victim once.
Isliye tujhse main pyaar karoon
ki too ik badal aawara
When you don't feel safe in vicinity of your own mind
And realize that you are not weak, but are fragile
It is more haunting than other days
because you have no one other to blame
you need to stay in an endless loop
just to stay away from, you.
Its a black hole you are trying to escape
always pulling, trying to engulf you in it.
I hated numbers, and today I'm earning because of them. I hated cost accounting and now I'm supposed to design and implement a whole accounting system based on cost accounting.
Bravo!
"Learned anything valuable about lighthouses? Anything that can help us?"
"If I did. I won't tell you."
"Is it because you want to get off this island alone?" he questions lightly though there's a hint of darkness in his tone.
"I don't care what happens to you," I mutter beneath my breath,
I only manage one more step when suddenly a hand is roughly gripping my curls and spinning me back around. A gasp leaves my tongue, and my heart bottoms out when I come face-to-face with two fierce hazel eyes. That dark spot in his right iris is sprouting, turning it nearly black,
He steps into my personal space and bares his teeth, tightening his grip on my hair until my skull is laced with pain.
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