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Ayala55's Journal
Whispers of the heart that can only be said through writing, because words said can be forgotten, while writing is words that stay.
2nd log
Pounding, screaming, clawing, crying, kicking; it's all proved useless.
This cage of unanswerable questions and terrifying darkness,
will this be my coffin?
My fingers, toes, knuckles, knees, legs and arms are bloody from desperately trying to get out.
I feel like I'm giving up.
In the darkness, I pout and cry and in not knowing what else I could do, I simply smear my blood on the walls, trying to see some color besides the blackness.
My throat has lost all ability to produce sound and saliva is even getting hard top make in the sweltering, stuffy heat.
Breathing it in is like drinking mud as eah gloppy gunk goes down my throat and into my lungs.
I don't have a watch to answer some of my haunting questions, but worse than not knowing how long, the sense of endless time drives me mad, like an itch I can't reach.
Despite the blackness, i close my eyes, hoping I can fall asleep.
Wishing that I couldn't at least dream of pleasant things even if they are forever out of reach.


Ayala55
Community Member
  • [02/25/12 02:43pm]
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