It was hell.
Sitting in his room, he had some music playing in the background. He opened his books and placed them on his desk. He was about to read, and 'that' song played.
That same song that made him feel invincible just a few months back. And now all it did was make him feel like a failure.
He hated himself for being reminded of his old self. He hated himself for being helpless. He hated the song that meant so much to him. He loathed everything.
He was lost. And had no patience to be found.
It was hell.
Sitting in her room, she kept going through her phone looking at her photos. All smiles, all happy moments. Just then, the phone buzzed. She cut the call, and went back to staring at the pictures. And she started weeping like a child.
Those pictures were supposed to be the beginning of her new life. And now, just over night, they had ceased to be anything at all.
She hated herself for being so weak. She hated the fact that she felt like complete shit. She hated how she could only find solace in a glass full of scotch. She hated what she had become.
A pathetic venomous drunk.
It was easier to be this person, this unabashedly hateful person.
No one bothered her. No one cared. No one reached out any more. And she didn't pretend have to pretend to be 'OK' any more either.
He couldn't breathe, she needed to smoke. "Fuck!"
to be continued....
Sitting in his room, he had some music playing in the background. He opened his books and placed them on his desk. He was about to read, and 'that' song played.
That same song that made him feel invincible just a few months back. And now all it did was make him feel like a failure.
He hated himself for being reminded of his old self. He hated himself for being helpless. He hated the song that meant so much to him. He loathed everything.
He was lost. And had no patience to be found.
It was hell.
Sitting in her room, she kept going through her phone looking at her photos. All smiles, all happy moments. Just then, the phone buzzed. She cut the call, and went back to staring at the pictures. And she started weeping like a child.
Those pictures were supposed to be the beginning of her new life. And now, just over night, they had ceased to be anything at all.
She hated herself for being so weak. She hated the fact that she felt like complete shit. She hated how she could only find solace in a glass full of scotch. She hated what she had become.
A pathetic venomous drunk.
It was easier to be this person, this unabashedly hateful person.
No one bothered her. No one cared. No one reached out any more. And she didn't pretend have to pretend to be 'OK' any more either.
He couldn't breathe, she needed to smoke. "Fuck!"
to be continued....
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