Bye, bye, bye.

It’s like an ice cold hand crippling its way beneath your sheets to grab at your belly. But misses and then you find your heart in a chocking grip that is slowly squeezing you to death. Those moments that catch you so off guard you feel like you have been shoved to the knife juggling stage in a circus show. They come looking so dear and dressed like your most earnest wish. They do not talk to you, no. They sit next to your shoulder instead slowly rubbing static with you till you feel as one. As complete with each other as the earth and its continents. And you begin to think that you are home safe. That it does not necessarily have to end up in flames or floods. Maybe the stars were finally wrong and in this one moment you would know true happiness; and hold on to it.

Now, this is dangerous. It could be fatal just because it feels so perfect. And you very well know the distant but painful brotherhood that these two belong to. But no, you’re about as efficient in going about your thoughts as a new born giraffe is at walking. Flopping all around and a breather later, you are balls deep in a pond that has a closing surface. Just a few hours before nightfall. The only things you brought are a flash-light and a heavy heart. No air tank, no air-mask, no floating flops or even a change of clothes in case you survive the ordeal.

So at Eight pm. when the owner slowly starts to close off the pond’s surface, you try to scream out. You have drank from his poisonous passion pond and cleaned yourself only to be smashed a few moments later with your floating faults/flaws. You forget where you are for that blinding moment of last light that suddenly appears above. You open your mouth to scream for help and suddenly your lungs are plunged into an unwelcome bath. The little wind you’ve got left is knocked out of you with a sharp pain to your chest area. Your eyes close involuntarily even as that light fades. You hear echoes in your mind going round and round and round yelling, No… No…

And the last thing you hear before the darkness is the whistle of your own soul leaving.

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