The demise of a hopeless romantic.
The soundwaves echo shrieks of reality into your ears, cracking at your eardrums as if they were bass drums demanding your attention. They’ve run out of sympathy for you, you’ve clearly passed before the last song and they have no sympathy for the dead. I however remember fondly the vibrant person you once were, and unfortunately the job of pulling you up from the depths of your self loathing and back to life has been bestowed upon me, like it always has. By now you’ve either infected every cell of me with your predisposed notions of love or burrowed yourself so deep that you’ve somehow hit my heart and decided to do redecorating. I can still hear it beating, so I’ll take the former. You are a hopeless romantic in a world of hopeless romantics turned cynics, congratulations. The plaques waiting for you outside the door and when you realize most people including myself at one time were the same way you can come back and talk to me. Until then I don’t want to hear your voice, the only sounds I wish to hear are the beating of my heart and the music coming from my stereo. The soundwaves have been kind to me, they know how hard I’ve tried.
This is not a threat but a promise, someday you’re going to wake up and no one will be there, and you will have to start over. You think you’re alone now, but you will never know what it truly means until it’s far too late. Take solace that your days aren’t numbered just yet but know the ghosts around you are plotting your demise and it is only I who has spoken on behalf of you, and your last supporter’s on his last leg. You think the spirits are on your side, but they’re in the background right now, waiting for the next chance to come up. You know how to stop them, you just have to believe in yourself and what I’ve told you, I know you can do this.
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