His pale, aged eyes opened, thinking of nothing. He realized once again, the world existed as he did, and then some, but that this did not matter in his microcosm. The world did not care that he was infinitesimally unimportant and his own concern was waning with each passing moment, diverging infinitely on zero.
He rolled over and slept the sleep of dejected flowers wilting.
- Double 11
Please someone tell me how I can keep them from drowning?
How can you keep your enemies afloat and breathing when you hate them as much as you once hated yourself? There’s that small, horrible, dark, dense place in me that takes joy and laughs at them while they grasp at branches and flail, but I can’t give into revenge. I can’t.
The more I watch them drown, the closer I get to swallowing all that water too.