I woke up this morning to the sound of my heart slowly beating, and coming to a stop. The air as well was dry, thin and fading with each breath. I was there again, the future. Cold, alone and full of burden. I was there again.
It’s a recurring pattern that haunts me during my time of escape and peace. Silence so cold, everything is just gray and vacant. You look around yourself, and everyone is screaming, but you don’t hear a sound. You can only feel thier emotion tearing and clawing at you for mercy.
I continue to walk. I continue to breathe, despite the fog that looms around me, growing thicker in its desperate attempt to try and choke me to death… I continue to walk. I walk, and wake up hearing the echo my own heart beating in midst of the slience around me. Maybe this is a good thing. This is how it started before I came here. Maybe this is a sign telling me my time on this plane is up. Or maybe its my subconcious telling me, it’s time to get up. If you don’t get up, you can’t get to work; if you don’t work, you don’t eat, and then you die.
Good.
It is worse to be dead and still to be dreaming of you.