He asked if I was afraid; no I wasn't. I was terrified. Why, he asked. He needed to ask. Why? Because there was someone else. Someone else I couldn't forget. Someone who speaks like him. Who walks like him. Whose manners were to be challenged against him. He was a saint. And so was he. And I fell like I'd never fell before. I fell so hard, I hit rock bottom. And it hurt so bad. It hurt so freakin bad, I didn't want to turn back. And now he arrives, identical in action, spoken words and undoubted mannerism. And I guarded myself, against him, against everyone- against my feelings. I built a wall- one so thick, I myself didn't have that much in me to make it crumble. But he did. He became my wall. He became nocturnal. Because he spoke to himself, at night. He spoke to himself saying he'd do the best he could. And he'd be the best for me. Best. For me. And he reassured himself. I pushed him away, maybe. Or maybe I strengthened him. He's at his breaking point. He's at his limit. I'm still afraid; terrified.

This has got nothing to do with me. I just had this inside my head for the past three weeks and can never get it out unless I pen it down. This shows that I'm still able to compose a decent piece of work. And I hope to hell and beyond, inspiration- and writing skills- lasts until after my O's. Then I can go watch High Kick- HOHOHO, bitchessssss.

He asked if I was afraid; no I wasn't. I was terrified. Why, he asked. He needed to ask. Why? Because there was someone else. Someone else I couldn't forget. Someone who speaks like him. Who walks like him. Whose manners were to be challenged against him. He was a saint. And so was he. And I fell like I'd never fell before. I fell so hard, I hit rock bottom. And it hurt so bad. It hurt so freakin bad, I didn't want to turn back. And now he arrives, identical in action, spoken words and undoubted mannerism. And I guarded myself, against him, against everyone- against my feelings. I built a wall- one so thick, I myself didn't have that much in me to make it crumble. But he did. He became my wall. He became nocturnal. Because he spoke to himself, at night. He spoke to himself saying he'd do the best he could. And he'd be the best for me. Best. For me. And he reassured himself. I pushed him away, maybe. Or maybe I strengthened him. He's at his breaking point. He's at his limit. I'm still afraid; terrified.

This has got nothing to do with me. I just had this inside my head for the past three weeks and can never get it out unless I pen it down. This shows that I'm still able to compose a decent piece of work. And I hope to hell and beyond, inspiration- and writing skills- lasts until after my O's. Then I can go watch High Kick- HOHOHO, bitchessssss.