Giving in to Darkness

Giving in to Darkness

I'm just trying to put my... feelings? into words. You may like this, you may not, makes no odds to me.

Comment if you like, for different interpretations are fascinating.

I wonder if any of you will get the reference at the end?

Chapter 1

I.R.A.T.F.U.

I've given up.

This is not a cry for help, nor is it a plea for notice. I've just... given up, it's as simple and plain as that, but none will notice, and that is how it's meant to be, how I want it to be, for I've always been the shadow in the dark, seeing without being seen.

I'm the dark heart with the broken soul, the one who constantly feels so cold, mere bones in pallid skin, sullen eyes and nasty grin. I'm sick and tired of being this way, no, that's a lie, for you see, without this sorrow and without this pain, I am nothing, nothing at all. You can't understand, you may even tell me otherwise, tell me to think differently, but that would be a somewhat pointless endeavour dear, trust me, many have tried unsuccessfully. Though I feel a certain amount of appreciation behind their attempts, as futile as they may be.

I don't know what has brought on this mentality, perhaps for my fear of what is to be? Or perhaps the meaning behind tragedy is so great, it's more appealing? For why would one choose to live in misery, if not out of fear, or some sort of fùcked up sense of comfort? It makes no sense, I've tried for years to find a meaning, but nothing fits, it still seems so wrong.

All I can conclude, is that darkness keeps me safe, or so I believe, for I know how wrong that must sound, how illogical that must seem, but when you've been shrouded in darkness for so long, you realise it was simply meant to be. I'm not crawling out the rabbit hole, don't force me, don't even try, for I'll claw at the sides in protest till my fingers bleed and go rough.

And now we've made it to the bitter end, to the ultimate darkness that is death. It is but the last frightening stepping stone in a lifetime of choices, and I fear that my stepping stones are running out, too soon, perhaps? Yes, I suppose, but time and fate are cruel mistresses.

I guess I should have listened to the raven when he told me to run, for death, you see, has given me a glimpse, just a premonition. I've planned it all, it's all so easy, but also all so hard, it's almost like an obsession to pull off the most baffling heist, to make everyone wonder why you did it, for a cunning mind keeps all at bay till the very end, till the very very end, to that final breath, to that last moment. You kinda learn how to enjoy the little moments then, when each moment feels like your last.

No, I don't seek him out, I do not feel that way, for even that would be pointless, so I live, or survive, or simply exist as I see it. Yes, it makes sense really, another useless being among many other useless beings, look at this, are these the words of one who'll go far? No, I didn't think so, but still I write, still I take up my little corner of the world, still I exist, watching the world pass me by.

Though in the end, despite all the pity, despite all the sorrow, despite all the hatred and anger that consumes me to this day, I still find some way to ignore all that for a while, and I manage to do something that feels impossible, I smile.

Farewell, my friend. Signed, the other half of the Dark Heart...

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