it was nothing.

3.01am, 11th of December, 2012.
Listening to: Alesso & Dirty South – City Of Dreams.

It Was Nothing.

“Wow,” he said, breathing heavily. “That was.. thanks.”

He pulled away.
As did I.

I leant my head on his shoulder, burying my face into the soft cotton of his shirt.

“Oh, it was nothing,” was my quietly murmured reply.

Absent-mindedly, I’d spoken the first words I could think of, as if I’d just leant him a pen to use, or I’d done him a quick errand.

I bit my bottom lip, to steady my nerves.
It was my first time being this way.

Being so carefree.
Having no strings to tie me down.
Allowing myself to be so flippant with my actions.
And forgetting about the consequences.

I never thought it could be this easy.
No games, no one-ups.
No lies, no fights.
If I'd known earlier, I’d have saved myself a lot of heartache.

That’s what I thought, back then.
At that moment, I thought I was finally happy for the first time in a long time.
Little did I know how short lived it would be.
Nor did I even consider what kind torturous emotions it would later enforce in me.

It excited me, then.
How simple and fun life could be when I threw out those silly notions of love, true or otherwise, and instead given into the alluring pleasures of lust.
Selfish, seductive, spur-of-the-moment lust.

Forgo the names, the awkward exchanges and skip to the part we all really wanted.
Nothing intrigued me more.
I’d had a taste of it once when I was much more innocent and naive, but thought nothing of it.
I hadn’t enjoyed it then, but tonight, that night, we were playing by my rules.

Of course, he was startled at first. Even I had shocked myself with my newfound confidence.
But my eyes were hazy, my lips were dry and I thought nothing of it, once I realised he was kissing me back.

As soon as it started, it ended. To this day, I still don’t quite recall what happened in between the moments our lips touched and finally drew apart.
All that mattered to me, though for the next day, was that my head was spinning, and inside it were whirlwinds of pure bliss.

I was glad for myself, to be able to enjoy feeling wanted like that. And wanting him in the same way.

But I was also glad for him. I had treated him far better than any other girl had, I could tell from how he often shied away.

He’d been broken, too. Like me.
So, he too deserved a night of happiness.

One thought did cross my mind, however.
A single thought that was enough to ruin my good mood.

‘Did he even like it?’

And from there, billions of questions exploded into my brain.
Doubt filled up my head.

Had I, looking like a complete mess, made an utter fool of myself in front of him?

I did my best to brush these thoughts aside.
What did it matter anyway, if I’d never see him again?

But once again, my train of thought would be rerouted without my consent.

I’d decided years ago, that my heart was already empty.
That I was officially devoid of affection, and of attraction to other people.
I told myself that my heart wouldn’t just swell up and beat faster at the first sight of a person, or at the mere mention of their name.
I convinced myself that the butterflies in my stomach were already extinct, and that their dried up wings would never flutter again.
Those were solely clichés told in the kinds of films and fantasies that I didn’t believe in any more.

I was done with trying to feel love.

Until one day, he showed up in front of me.

He was still as charming as he was in that blurred moment.
At first, I thought we’d play it cool. We’d act like nothing had happened and carry on with our lives.

Alas, he thought otherwise. It was as though it were the only thing on his mind since then.

He was unlike anybody I’d ever met.
He was genuine, caring and..
Honestly spoke what he felt.
Which was a change for me.

I’d never heard such beautiful words spoken directly to me.
So, no surprise that it was probably the kick that sent me off the edge.

Suddenly, a barely familiar sensation erupted in my stomach. They were back.
The feelings I thought had died long before spiked up again.
And I was dreading it.

For I knew, that it wouldn’t be long.
It was only a matter of time before it all started up again.
The games, the mistrust, the jealousy, the anger.

I was happy once.
Happy in my own world, where I didn’t have to feel the pain of love.
And now..

I wish that night had remained what it was supposed to be.
It should’ve been and should’ve gone on to be nothing.
It was nothing.
I swore it was.

But I knew deep down, nothing never stays that way.

imagecredit: weheartit

Behind the Story

She was ready to accept it all. Ready to embrace her emotional handicap. Ready to move on from the past. Ready to forget about the present. Ready to look forward to the future. But we all know that there’s no such thing. Just when you think you’ve found what you want, you’re wrong. Your heart pulls you in the opposite direction. And you can try, but it’s a long and treacherous road back. Just as you reach that city of dreams, like a snagged piece of wool from a sweater, you’re yanked back and unravelling fast.

‘Everything seems
Like a city of dreams.
I’ll never know why,
But I still miss you.

There she's standing,
In a field of lights.
I close my eyes,
And I still miss you.’

The games we play are the ones that lead to our destruction. Life is so much easier without them. With honesty and compassion, happiness is within our grasp. But the distrust we have for one another will never allow it. That’s why there’s no such thing as a perfect lustful nothing moment. Because either you’re unhappy with what you had and discard them, or you’re selfish with what you’ve got and smother them. Either way, you have no control.

her.

11.29am, 21nd of July, 2012.
Listening to: Breaking Benjamin - Dance With The Devil.

Her.
I laugh the loudest, yet my heart is humourless.

I smile wide, but inside I am empty.

My thoughts are lost elsewhere and my eyes keep darting across the room.

Towards something that not only captivates my heart; it crushes it, too.

Now, I know that I am nothing to him. Probably even less than that.

This I have already accepted.

I am a nobody in his eyes.

But her..
That girl..

She is his everything. She somehow fulfils him.

He and her.

Are what he and I won’t ever be.

He shares with her all that he hides from me.

The deepest crevices of his soul are concealed from the world, yet those are the parts of him she knows best.

Why?

Why is that?

She is all that I am not.

While I smile, she scowls.
While I am overjoyed, she is sullen.
While I am sincere, she is cold and unkind.

Yet he loves her.

Bit by bit, I drift slowly away from the conversation that's happening around me until I am all but a shell.

I'm too ensnared by another.

Luckily nobody notices when I flinch at what I hear.

To listen him call her that, it aches.

To know that he refers to her as "Mine", stings.

'What makes her so special?' I want to ask.

But indeed, 'What gives me the right to ask?' is just as valid a point.

I watch as he puts his arm around her, and suddenly, my body feels lacking in warmth.

Nobody could possibly fathom the immense emptiness swirling within the pits of my heart in this moment.

I have had the feeling of those arms around me, too.

I have experienced the gentleness of those hands caress me, too.

Though everyone else has forgotten, and he pretends like it never existed, there was a time when we shared somewhat of a skinship.

It may have been but a fleeting moment, one that began and ended much too briskly for me, still, despite the lamentable evanescence of it all, I was never able to let it go.

Even now, reminiscing over that night, the remnants of my elation recollect and a girlish flush finds its way upon my cheeks.

Together, that night, we spun.

We swung, we twisted, we twirled to a song nobody could hear.

Two as one, we danced the devil's dance.

That day, and every after, I was prepared to give him all that I had.

Whatever it took to feel him under my touch, to feel his hand on the small of my back, like before.

To have him hold me, his broad shoulders protecting me, as he did then.

Like a child crying out for attention, I had been embarrassingly lucid.

I still am.

Letting out an ostentatious laugh, hoping to catch his eye.

Calling him by the name only I use, seeking his acknowledgement.

Subtly smiling and fluttering my lashes, all while trying my best not to overplay it.

I do all this, yet ultimately, I know it is futile.

At the end of the day, when he comes home, he comes home to her.

As his head hits the pillow and his eyes close shut, the one lying beside him and the one he pulls close will always be her.

When it's late at night and his mind drifts off to sleep, it's not me he dreams of.

It's her.

imagecredit: weheartit

Behind the Story

The one thing worse than unrequited love is when you know, you can so clearly see, that you could be so good together, and just they don’t. It didn’t take much for this girl to fall head over heels. One romantic night, and the butterflies in her stomach never left. Her heart was overjoyed when she was in his arms, bodies fitting together like a glove as they moved. Little did she know that she was waltzing on the edge of a cliff. Blinded by his charms, she didn’t even realise who she was dancing with.

'Trembling, crawling across my skin.
Feeling your cold dead eyes,
Stealing the life of mine.

I believe in you,
I can show you that I can see right through all your empty lies.

I won't last long, in this world so wrong.

Say goodbye,
As we dance with the devil tonight.
Don't you dare look at him in the eye,
As we dance with the devil tonight.'

If you say you’ve never had a ‘Her’, you’d be lying. The other girl, the other guy, it doesn’t matter. They’re the one person standing in your way to happiness. You watch and you criticise, you tell yourself, ‘I could be better than them if I just had the chance’. It can’t even be labelled as envy, as it’s more painful and confusing than any jealousy you’ve ever felt. Even so, there’s not a thing you can do about it. Because while your emotions are pure and your love is scorching, you will never be as significant as they are.

and my, what a night it was.

1.19am, 22nd of June, 2012.
Listening to: The Wanted - Glad You Came.

And My, What A Night It Was.
God only knows where we went last night.
And the Devil only knows what we did when we got there.

Like a dream had in a deep, hypnotic sleep, I see only pieces of my memory.
Drinks, lights, shouts and skin.
Just glimpses are all that return.

I rack my mind to think of who might’ve been there..
Who were the witnesses?
The victims..
And the marauders?

Which of us should be feeling guilty?
Which should feel proud?
Which should feel ashamed and which should feel overjoyed?

With half-lidded eyes, I look around the room, scrambling to remember something – anything. The state of the room tells its own story.

Ripped clothes strewn, empty bottles scattered, numerous unmentionables in places they certainly should not be.
Bodies sleeping in the strangest of spaces, in the awkwardest of positions. People wrapped in the arms of the most unlikely bedfellows.

Frightening to think that this was only the last place we ended up at.

I wonder what evidence exists of the antics of last night.
Other than these arcane morning bruises, of course.

Where else have we left our mark?
How many people have we pissed off?
How many actually remember?

With all these questions swirling around my still-drowsy head, my confusion is interrupted by an almost beastly roar.

Yet, while it is not a savage animal letting out a predatory snarl, that snore of a heavily passed out young man could scare off any creature.

Sinking back down, getting ready to doze off again, a knowing smile makes its way to my lips.
Not of arrogance, but just that feeling of content. A smile full of that satisfying feeling, knowing that everything was worth it.

Now, I don’t remember exactly when it began, or what happened after it ended.
But all I can say is that it was a night we probably should’ve regretted.
Should’ve, but where’s the fun in that?

It was a night that might come back one day to haunt us.
To rub it all in our face, laughing at our idiocy, while we blush a deep scarlet of embarrassment.

But for now, it just remains as the night we had absolutely no recollection of.

A night of blasphemy, anarchy and utter debauchery.

And my,
What a night it was.

imagecredit: http://xsoullessblonde.tumblr.com/

Behind the Story

It’s nothing new. In fact, it’s pretty much every weekend. Perhaps even every Wednesday morning, for some. I for one, love it. Maybe it’s because I don’t get the conventional headaches, upturned stomach and bloodshot eyes, but I think it’s great. Sure, I’m tired and groggy, but it’s all a sign that I thoroughly enjoyed myself the night before. It’s all worth it, to free myself from the dregs of my mundane everyday routine.

"Turn the lights out now,
Now I'll take you by the hand,
Hand you another drink,
Drink it if you can.
Can you spend a little time?
Time is slipping away,
Away from us so stay,
Stay with me I can make,
Make you glad you came.

The sun goes down,
The stars come out,
And all that counts,
Is here and now.
My universe will never be the same
I'm glad you came."

The blackouts may be terrifying at first, but piecing together the clues is part of the fun. If it’s the mysteries of others that attract us, then what could be better than to have our own mysteries to ourselves? The evening spent getting up to no good is just the beginning, because it’s the next few days spent discussing, fretting, apologizing, laughing with those who were there that make it worthwhile. To have these unique stories to tell, whether it’s to those who missed out, or to the generations after us, is something money can’t buy. The nights may blend together, and we could end up with our face in our palms, hiding from the shame, but that’s exactly why, the morning after, I’m always the first to ask, “When’s the next one?”

breathe in blue.

10.40pm, 5th of March, 2012.
Listening to: Birds of Tokyo – Broken Bones.

Breathe In Blue.
I can’t breathe.

This damned house is suffocating me.

There’s no air here anymore.

I need to get out.

It used to be a home.

A place of warmth, safety and security.

Now it just feels like a stone cold jail cell and I’m waiting for the day they announce that my time is up.

The day I’m freed.

But the longer I wait, the more I can feel my chest tighten.

Because I know what’s out there isn’t much better than staying in.

In the end, no matter where I go, I’m alone.

Alone, yet still a waste of oxygen that belongs to someone more deserving.

I feel the air growing thinner and thinner everywhere I walk.

And I’m losing hope fast.

To have something to hold on to, someone to cling to..

Is that so much to ask for?

Even in the most crowded of places, I walk at a distance from the rest.

Even in the emptiest, widest space I can find, I must still keep it all to myself.

Even with the brightest smile on my face, I am miserable.

So, why shouldn’t I give up?

There is nothing of value to me in that house..

And not a thing out here either.

Even if something good is waiting for me, wouldn’t it just turn sour in the end too?

Shouldn’t I just save my breath?

Isn’t it easier that way?

To prevent the problem before it arises?

To destroy any chance of heartbreak and disappointment before it has the chance to destroy me?

Even the sky and the moon and the ocean don’t dare to answer me..

I know what I’m supposed to do.

I’m supposed to take it all in my stride.

Forgive and forget.

I’m supposed to pick myself up and move on.

Yet, blow after blow after blow, followed by a barrage of bullets, while I gasp for air, I find myself rethinking whether it’s worth getting back up again.

I know they say, no matter how bad you think you’ve got it, there’s someone else in the world that has it worse.

But for all I care, they can have my life.

I’m too tired, alone and empty to enjoy it anyway.

So whoever’s out there, you can take it.

Take it all.

Take this privileged life that I don’t deserve and live it like I should have.

Because the only way I’ll be able to breathe again is when my lungs fail to function and my heart ceases to beat.

I’m sure that there’s a deep blue place out there for me, where I can finally exhale in relief.

imagecredit: weheartit

Behind the Story

It’s not that there’s a reason to hate life. Nobody should hate their life, unless they have a legitimate reason. But there comes a moment where you start to realise that there’s nothing worth.. anything. Breathing isn’t complicated, it’s not difficult to do. It’s subconscious. We do it to survive. But when breathing starts to become hard, when depression starts so sink in, what can we do?

“These broken bones,
This busted smile,
My head it hurts,
I should be leaving now.
I hear your words,
They call my name,
I won't go back,
You must be out of your head.

You say I'm wrong,
You say I'm mad,
If I stay here,
I'll never make it back.
I hear your words,
They call my name,
I won't go back,
You must be out of your head.”

Please, forgive my sad little self. There’s a dark place in all of us. We all start to wonder what the hell we’re doing. Why we’re still sticking around. What are we waiting for? I guess I’m stupid. But so is life. I wonder what else we have in common.

selfish.

2.24am, 8th of November, 2011.
Listening to: Calvin Harris – Feels So Close [Cam Paget Remix]

Selfish.
I’ve always felt that crying was selfish.

Unless nobody sees it.

It’s selfish because the raw emotions of your inner self are put on display, for everyone to see.

It forces all who witness it to acknowledge all your problems.

Your troubles, your complexities, your trivial little inconveniences.

Nobody wants to see it.

Nobody wants to know about it.

They know it’s there. Hidden deep within you. In the crevices of your heart.

But that doesn’t mean they want to care.

They only fake sincerity and sympathy because it’s what society deems as the ‘right’ thing to do.

They only feign pity to save face.

In reality, you only manage to embarrass yourself and aggravate others.

All your tears serve to do is create awkwardness.

Do you really think they care?

Do you honestly believe they want to hear your pathetic little sob stories?

How dare you think that your problems outweigh theirs?

If anything, you should be the one dabbing their eyes with tissues, lending your shoulder for them to lean on.

Your problems are insignificant.

Because when they need you, you’re there by their side in a heartbeat.

You’re ready to spend hours, days, weeks! Just to get them back on their feet.

But you don’t deserve five fucking minutes of their time.

No, you don’t receive that privilege.

They live faster lives than you.

They have greater difficulties than you.

And apparently, they have better friends than you.

They say you’re the best friend in the world.

You’re the friend to confide in. To ask for advice from. To depend on.

But don’t think for a second that it means they want to deal with your life too.

Sure, we all want to be loved and needed. It’s human nature.

And we form these relationships by sharing our deepest private thoughts. The quickest way to form a bond.

Affection, fear, sadness. The basis of all emotions. But the hardest to explain.

So, how can you call yourselves friends when all they do is talk and never listen?

Most of the time, your feelings are never taken seriously or just simply ignored. They remain unnoticed.

And the bond is never completed.

And eventually, you find it’s just easier that way.

To ignore it.

That way you don’t have to put people in that uncomfortable position.

They won’t ever live up to your expectations anyway.

No matter how you try to hint what you need from them, they won’t see it.

The people you love and care for so deeply won’t ever return the feelings the same exact way you do.

They’re blinded by their own frantic circumstances.

They’re only concerned with themselves.

And your existence becomes secondary.

Your devotion is incomprehensible and they simply can’t match up to it on their own.

It’s unfathomable why you care so damn much.

Why do you care?

It’s just who you are.

You thought opening up would bring you closer but it’s only made you recognise the distance between the two of you.

The giant canyon that widens and separates your hearts.

Finally, you see the smiling facades that seal away the frowns.

Yes, you will continue to be there for them.

Except now with the added knowledge that while you will work to understand them and try your best to be what they need, whether it be a friend, a lover, a confidant, an advisor or a saviour, they won’t be doing the same for you.

While nothing changes, you eventually choose to let it go.

You just forget it and throw it away.

That desire for an intimate relationship.

And so, you tuck those emotions away, back into the confines of your soul, swearing to yourself that you’ll never be so selfish again.

Instead of the relationship you want, you end up allowing yourself to be the crutch.

The doormat.

You give in.

In the end,

You let them be selfish.

imagecredit: Audrey Kawasaki

Behind the Story

Behind the Story.
This wasn’t written about just one person. It’s about everyone I’ve ever met. Yes, it is hard to admit, but it’s the truth. People don’t want to hear about pain. It’s terrible. It’s gut-wrenching. And it only spreads the depression around. That’s why you’ve got to just put on a brave face and get on with your life. Show the world you aren’t crumbling down. Show them you’re strong enough and that you can handle it. And when everyone else is falling apart, you’ll be there to lend a hand. Because you feel it’s your duty.

'I feel so close to you right now,
It's a force field.
I wear my heart upon my sleeve, like a big deal.
Your love pours down on me, surround me like a waterfall.
And there's no stopping us right now,
I feel so close to you right now.'

We all want to be close to other people. It’s just who we are as humans. We want it so bad that we will devote ourselves to people. Whether they’re our friends or someone we’ve fallen in love with, we find ourselves doing anything and everything for them. Jumping through their hoops becomes the norm. Until one day comes the realisation that we’ve been taken for granted. That after all we’ve been through, we don’t get much in return. There’s no room to be self-centred here. Because we have others who depend so much on us, we don’t get to be selfish. And that’s a reality.

love like lightning.

6.22pm, 15th of October, 2011.
Listening to: Virtual Boy - Mass.

Love Like Lightning.
It’ll kill me.

But I don’t even care.

I think I love it.

The impending doom lurking above.

The dark, violet, indigo, grey of the clouds hover above, threatening to destroy everything ever adored or cherished.

Telling us to grab what we love before it turns to nothing but ashes and dust.

The black skies are warning us of the deadly quick hands of above, ready to snatch away whatever it can find.

They don’t discriminate or aim for anything in particular. But at the same time, they are merciless.

Lightning is like death.

Get struck by it once and you may not make it back in one piece, if at all.

And in saying that, lightning is also like love.

It electrocutes you. Burning a place into your soul, that is neither replaceable nor replicable. Nor is it easy to neglect.

If you survive it the first time, and bring yourself back before you hit the grave, chances are, you’ll never be able to look at life the same way as you did before.

You might live in fear, afraid of when that next bolt is going to hit. And forevermore, you’ll hide, sheltering yourself, protecting whatever fragility you have left.

Or, you might never be able to forget the intensity that electrified you in that one moment. That shock that made your heart beat faster than it ever had in your life.

And you might spend all the time you have left seeking that kind of feeling again, striving for it, knowing, but disregarding, the definite threat it all holds.

You know you won’t survive another encounter like that, yet the mere sound of the growling thunder that frightens young children and causes grown men to curse, still has the power to send shivers down your spine, leaving you with tingles.

Your insides feel like pins and needles, like the sound of white noise.

Your body, spiking with excitement, urges you to move forward, towards what you know will end you.

That feeling of the thrill that you thrive off of.

That is what I feel right now, in this very moment.

I raise my eyes up to the clouds and the world looks as though it’s about to reach its grand finale.

The sky is the darkened stage and we are the onlookers, waiting for the last encore.

Waiting for the blackness to be lit up and amaze us.

With the adrenaline running through my veins, I stand at the highest point I can find.

I close my eyes and feel the wind blow through my hair which billows out of control.

Even with no shooting stars in sight, I wish silently to myself.

‘I want a love like this..

A love that can’t be contained.

One that everyone can see..

But one that no one can stop.’

The thunder roars above my head like a fierce beast.

‘I want a love that will strike something within me that I’ve never felt before..

I want to feel that electricity in my bones, surging throughout me..’

The heavens crackle, thrashing about, and it feels as though the earth begins to shake.

A smile creeps its way upon my lips.

‘I want a love to jumpstart my dull heart.

I want it to leave a mark that I will never forget..’

One last boom erupts and I know for sure now.

‘Yeah, that’s the kind of love I want.’

imagecredit: weheartit

Behind the Story

You might think the person in this story is out of their mind. That they must be suicidal and in great need of help. But you know, they’re not as crazy as they seem. Is it really so insane to want death? Stop and think. Everything in this world is tangible except for death. Not even happiness, excitement, romance and love are concrete. Nothing is certain except for the end. If only all the things we held as important was as dependable as that.

“With lightning and with love, the clothes sound, the heart burned.”
- Spanish Proverb.

Even more so than love, I hear that death is one of the most enticing things you’ll ever come across. And with freedom so close within your reach who wouldn’t be tempted just that little bit? To be free of the bodies that contain us, constrict us from reaching our full potential, from being happy.. Isn’t that something worth giving it all up for?

seven deadly.

3.45am, 13th of June, 2011.
Listening to: Skrillex –WEEKENDS!!!.

Seven Deadly.
You, there.

Yes, you.

No, you don’t know us.

But, that’s about to change right now.

We’ve seen you around, admired your work and, well-

I think that you’d get along with us.

You seem like the type who’d know a good time.

Oh, the shenanigans we’d get up to.

Now, we’re not your typical crowd.

No, no.
We are very much unlike the rest.

What we do, and how we do it, is.. beyond typicality.

We are all you can possibly imagine, tenfold.

That is, if you can embrace us completely.

If you did that, well, your world would expand so very much more, so many new possibilities would be presented before you.

Hear us out.

Broaden your perspective for just a little while, sweetheart.

We have a proposition for you.

Close your eyes.

Think about what you want most in the world.
Got it?
Now, think of why it isn’t already in your possession.

Think of all the things that hold you back from receiving what you seek, achieving what you aim for.

And now, think of what it would be like if those obstacles didn’t exist. Visualize those constraints no longer holding you back, dragging you down.

This freedom you see at this very moment in your mind.. This is what we are.

We are your vindicators. Your liberation.

Possibilities would no longer be mere potential. They would be the physical. Within reach.

Nobody would be able to control us, we would do whatever we wanted, whenever we wanted. We could laze around all day if we liked; not moving a single inch, not lifting even one finger, if that’s what we decided.

My, I can see it now. The sheer extravagance of it all.. The wild antics upon penthouse rooftops, in cities abundant in all the right places.. Opulence left, right and center. We’d bathe in the most expensive luxuries we could afford, and maybe more than a few that we couldn’t.

But why stop there? Bottles of the finest wine, platters and platters of the delectable, the sweetest delicacies known to man. We’d take what we pleased, waiting for no one’s permission or seal of approval. And when all is gone, returned to dust, we’d simply utter the word, ‘More.’

Tell me what you covet, love. Share with me the secret indulgences you keep. With one sultry glance, all that you crave, all you yearn for will be laid before your feet. The carnal instincts buried so far beneath could finally be unleashed. Together, we could do all the things you have been longing to do. And allow those burning passions within to, like a fever, take over your body and exonerate you from all those self-inflicted hindrances.

And like we said, nobody would try to stop us, control us, contain us! None of these dull souls would dare cross our radiant paths. Only stand by, powerless against us, with nothing to do but stare in awe of our great glory.

For once in their miserable lives, they’d finally be stripped of all the things these materialistic fools ever had, the ones they never deserved in the first place. Things they never cherished, only took for granted. For once, they’d look to us and want. We’d be what everyone else sought to be, what they all resented deep inside.

By the end of our spree, we’d have destroyed this grand old town. Taken it all down with us, just because. In the heat of our tempest, we would lose control of even ourselves. The wreckage will be magnificent. The destruction shall be bold. The history we would write would be nothing short of epic.

Can you imagine that?
Can your mind divulge in your heart’s deepest desires?

If you knew you had the power to emancipate yourself from your mortal restraints, what would you do?

Oh dear, would you look at the time!
We’ve carried on much too long.
Our apologies.

And we haven’t yet introduced ourselves!
How rude of us.

Sloth, Greed, Gluttony, Lust, Pride, Envy and Wrath.
The Seven Deadly Sins.

We tend to bring out the worst in you.

But don’t fret, love.

I assure you
It’ll be such fun along the way.

imagecredit: http://w-i-l-d-a-t-h-e-a-r-t.blogspot.com/

Behind the Story

Nobody’s perfect. But nobody’s perfectly imperfect either. It’s all good and well to imagine a life completely in tune with your morals, to be kind and virtuous and blah blah blah.. But what if we were to do the opposite? Give in to the corruption? Turn off the side of us that cares. We’d be happy, at least. Doing what we truly wanted to, without concern of consequences and fear of repercussion. If by chance, one day, somebody offered you that option, would you even hesitate?

‘I think you and my friends
Should hang out
On the weekends.'

I like to think that in this piece, each sin had its own voice. For example, Lust would of course been a woman, whose voice could entice a thousand men. Envy would be a little edgy, a little more attitude than the rest. Nevertheless, they would all be very classy, holding themselves completely composed. They would be the VIP group, the It crowd that everyone wanted to be a part of. They would do the things we all dreamt of but were too afraid to even grasp.