Clover & Darkness.
Clover & Darkness. neurasthenia stories
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vero
vero I miss feeling.
Autoplay OFF   •   a year ago
This piece of writing will present and display what it feels like to feel a unique, exclusive emotion. Heartbreak and abandonment. It's not very cheerful. But I think that as humans, we must learn to stop sugarcoating everything, and accept life for what it is, for it is not always sweet. We must take in the bitter side of it as well, and learn how to cooperate with human emotion, both manic and distressing ones.
I am open for any constructive criticism and advice that may help me improve my writing.

Clover & Darkness.

It was civil twilight, on a chilly moment, my mind reminded me of a best friend I hadn’t contacted in a month or two.

I truly loved them, cared for them, considered them a real friend I could trust, one that’ll go with me through thick & thin.

One that brought joy and happiness to my heart through my fingertips, one whose comforting and compassion would strike me out of every frontier.

One, who was as beautiful as a clover, a clover in the darkness, a beam of hope that shined through obscure clouds. Euphoria, in a dystopia. She, to me, was sympathy. She was symphony.

She was harmony. She was melody. She was empathy. She was symbiosis, between rivals, mutualism, is my aim here.

Needless to say, she was going through a lot, anxiety, angst, depression, grief, her experiences were truly traumatizing. But I offered her help, until I started to fade and vanish.

On a dark time, she had fallen, at least we thought, she tricked us, and broke their trust but not mine.

It’s normal, for one to get busy with his thermodynamics and biological studies, but I could have given her time.

But I didn’t, I was too occupied, occupied distracting myself from myself, from my dread and void, from my pessimism and negativity. I came running, worry and fear were pumping through my blood.

I apologized for leaving for so long. But instead of accepting my apology. She demonstrated that all our memories were lies, delusions, illusions.

Apparently, I was just an odd one she despised talking to, somebody who was nothing but a fool, idiot, imbecile, and depressing person.

I tried and failed, she feels better with others, she doesn’t trust me.

The clover was dead all along, it was a horrifying view, of a dead, rotten, brown, clover in the midst of the order whose existence I hadn’t known of.

The beam of light was another one of my hallucinations. Flaw, in a utopia. She, to me, turned into apathy. She was disorder. She was disagreement. She was chaos. She was masochism.

She still was symbiosis, between enemies, parasitism, is my aim here. She brought sadness and dread to my depressed state. One whose betrayal and avarice had shut every open or ajar door.

The doors whose light and jams had given me slight hope had disappeared.

After the tragedy, my chaotic state had rather turned more disrupted and disturbed. The walls got progressively darker. The blinds swirled around the door. A centipede walked on my iris.

A cat dashed through my eyelid. And there, I broke.

Needless to say, it caused me a lot of pain, fear, terror, torture, that experience was utter horror. What a lugubrious, dismal, funereal event.

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