This article is my personal vent and illusion. It may be disturbing to or may disgust some people.
I write whatever comes into my mind.
I always picture the 'ideal' end of myself. For some reason, a part of me is fond of being murdered by someone who understands me. One day I would be kidnapped by my god of death, or my angel, and disappear without a trace. She would bring me to a dark room. A deep slice on my forearm, where I use to SH. Another. Then another. Pain would overwhelm me, accompanied by the surge of joy. After hours of thrill, I would be on the edge of death. It would all end when she press on my neck, my mind would go foggy, as if I am drifting, and the world would slowly slip away, into darkness.
No one would blame me for my death. I would be killed by a kidnapper, as an innocent person. Few would know that 'I' has been ambiguous to me, that we have shared thus space for a long time. No one would even notice the pale marks on my forearm. No guilt in those I love due to my death; just an unfortunate incident, and I no longer have to suffer.
My angel would disappear as well, and my death would not destroy her life.
Okay this article is kind of disgusting. Fuck it.
I write whatever comes into my mind.
I always picture the 'ideal' end of myself. For some reason, a part of me is fond of being murdered by someone who understands me. One day I would be kidnapped by my god of death, or my angel, and disappear without a trace. She would bring me to a dark room. A deep slice on my forearm, where I use to SH. Another. Then another. Pain would overwhelm me, accompanied by the surge of joy. After hours of thrill, I would be on the edge of death. It would all end when she press on my neck, my mind would go foggy, as if I am drifting, and the world would slowly slip away, into darkness.
No one would blame me for my death. I would be killed by a kidnapper, as an innocent person. Few would know that 'I' has been ambiguous to me, that we have shared thus space for a long time. No one would even notice the pale marks on my forearm. No guilt in those I love due to my death; just an unfortunate incident, and I no longer have to suffer.
My angel would disappear as well, and my death would not destroy her life.
Okay this article is kind of disgusting. Fuck it.
