23 days ago
𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞.
My last resort.
My medicine. Twice per day, take mixed with sharp breaths.
Breath in and out, with razor blades of reality cutting the tired lungs, sending deadly shiver down the spine. Steadily torturing all what is left inside. There isn’t much left there. Not anymore.
I hope it won’t be today when my hope leaves me. And not tomorrow, either.
I regret not being smart, wise or anything else enough, but there is no fixing things. Not those things. There is only hoping that, when those castles of glass fall, shattering across the nonexistent ground, I, being trapped in the labyrinth of those glass walls, would stand and survive the aftermath. That I could leave the trap unharmed. That it is possible, at least.
The trap of depletion, of blinding glowing sun and piercing night being my only company. The trap of illusion, seeing things but not knowing what they mean. The torment of never being able to reach all the things the heart longs for.
And all those walls, ceilings and floors are already covered with the deadly web of cracks, which are expanding with petrifying sounds, claiming the place. I can feel them breaking not only my heart, but also every bone of my body, haunting every thought. As though this trap turned me into one of those walls.
Inhale - exhale.
No escape plan, but
𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄. at St Pancras Renaissance Hotel