Time. Truth. Hearts.

It was as it should be.

There were a million things I should be doing and me enumerating them one by one made it one million and one. I was in love with my resilience. I was on my way to becoming this world’s biggest douchebag. The ease of me being loved was only matched by the ease of me being forgotten.

I was tired of my self-diagnosed bipolar tendencies. I was obsessed with having the taste of your skin serve as my lithium. I might be causing a distortion in your universe and that made me smile like that day I realized that there were things much more pleasurable than eating sweets. Then I realized that there were things more painful than death and that juvenile smile was wiped off.

I was aware I was losing.

I was aware of the pain that could be lined up for me.

I was aware that the more I squeezed, the quicker it’d be over and gone.

I was aware that loving you in this lifetime must meet an end and that I was refusing to submit to the altogether more sensible concept and laws of motion.

I would not be redeemed. I wouldn’t really want that, anyway. I was too busy sewing up memories that I forgot that seams, strong as they seemed, could sever without warning and mercy.

The audience’s laughter sounded like music to my ears. This world’s mockery was my sustenance. The irony of it all implored me to make black holes out of hearts.

Watch me as I deconstruct.