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It's a more dramatic version
She was in between jobs, in between relationships, in between towns - just in between and fuck the Lord Jesus Christ, she's tired of being in between. She'd rather settle on a side - be it called hell or a damned hot place. She'll cry if she doesn't laugh so she laughs like a maniac, cackling and growling. The truth is, some nightmares don't go away just because your eyes are open. They tend to linger just under your eyelids ever so faintly, that you can still see it even when you blink.
It's there, hidden within some dark recess of her collective consciousness, reminding her, nagging her, chastising her and judging her. It nearly kills her now. The most ironic part about it is, even though she hates the feeling and tries to bury the past incident deep; tries to bury it and cram it with the rest of her regrets, it's the only thing that reminds her that she's alive. Being alive is still a better alternative because when you are, you have hope. So, she welcomes the feeling with open arms and weeping eyes.
Someday, she hopes. Someday. She'll be out of this place. Someday, she'll be out of her skin. Someday, someday, someday. She chants this to herself like a prayer. Someday, someone will answer.
It's there, hidden within some dark recess of her collective consciousness, reminding her, nagging her, chastising her and judging her. It nearly kills her now. The most ironic part about it is, even though she hates the feeling and tries to bury the past incident deep; tries to bury it and cram it with the rest of her regrets, it's the only thing that reminds her that she's alive. Being alive is still a better alternative because when you are, you have hope. So, she welcomes the feeling with open arms and weeping eyes.
Someday, she hopes. Someday. She'll be out of this place. Someday, she'll be out of her skin. Someday, someday, someday. She chants this to herself like a prayer. Someday, someone will answer.
