Creative writing: Darker days

I laugh, and I smile. I give the answers I’m supposed to give. I live.

Ironically, I feel like… Death. My bones, chiselled out of stone pull me closer and closer towards the ground, which I will inevitably be sprawled upon at some point during the day. My blood runs thick with exhaustion, my breath heavy with the weight of fatigue that seems to mystify the glass which separates me from others who claim to be living. My eyelids droop, certainly without the promise of making the return journey.

Death is not glamorous. Death is not the poetic bullshit you see on tumblr. Thin girls brooding, cigarettes hanging out of their mouth. Death is not the tranquillity that one might think of when idle minds wonder towards the bigger questions in life… God, Religion, existence…


Death is none of these things.

Death, is simply


Just a little creative writing at 12PM. As per usual:) Quite dark but I very much enjoyed writing this!



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