|My DD! Also please check out I am Eight Years Old. Before the DD, it was the most 'd thing in my gallery, and still that which I am most proud of.|
ContentsIn the reflection of a dark pool of liquid, I see a pretty girl with big eyes and a thin, gentle mouth. I do not recognize her anymore. She's in the brightly-painted glass I hold carefully between both hands, so much, it's full to the very brim. I must carry this glass with me where ever I go. Each step must be a precise measurement to prevent any spilling as I maintain an even pace to avoid suspicion. The glass is cold and hard against my skin, but it looks rather convincing - enough to fool anyone who looks at this opaque surface. If they suspect something more, they never show it, never tell me. I, however, know that what it holds is warm and deep and real. But the glass is necessary. I can't let it go - can't make a mistake - can't let a single drop spill. I must never let her escape.Contents by ~etherealism
SettleThere's a gun in your hand. There's a barrel to your head. There's a finger on the trigger, ready to blow.Settle by ~etherealism
You know it's going to hurt, but it'll only be for an instant. After that, BANG, it'll be over. After that, you'll forget. After that, you're free. That's why you have the courage to do this. To even think about doing this. And you've thought about it for a long, long time. You're strong. You can pull that trigger any time you want. What a thrill it is, to come this close!
So you do it. Click.
And you realize...
...that there were never any bullets in the damn thing to begin with.
Because you're not that strong. You don't have any courage. You don't have shit. You're still here. You're tied down; trapped and you always will be.
Maybe, in time, it won't be so bad.
But it'll never be good.