˚ ·. · 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃, to be able to experience sadness one must experience happiness to initialize those feelings. we long to savor those ephemeral moments of passing bliss we realize we will never be able to experience once more, bec...
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ꜰ ʀ ᴀ ɪ ʟ ᴛ ʏ
*°:⋆ₓₒ
⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆
Adolescence is proclaimed to be of utmost paramount in ones life, arguably it is the walkway for fundamentals to burgeon into all that is one; corroborating the key components of ones identity, their character, the absoluteness of the hereafter that is oh-so influential, willing to reorient instantaneously with no given heed. What is of the future, is of the past; two sides of the same coin, moreover one in the same, all the more a troubling paradox.
Seven years, thats how long your life had normality and balance to claim as its own until devastation and woe pillaged your stability and challenged what you were already attuned to. A part of you would possibly remain attached to that phase of your life for however long you had left to live, regardless of if it was ten years ago. A decade. Over half of your life. Comprehension just wasn't convenient as of now, or perhaps it had never been from the start. That was why you thought so much about what disconnected the ligature from one side to the other.
It was so easy for your reality to disintegrate; like a wineglass subduing water, so fragile yet sustained and pertinacious, tipping over by a fault other than its own, unable to see its rise because of cruel ineptitude imposed against its will.
Both the faces of your mother and younger sister were embedded amongst the profundity of your brain. Just vaguely could you make outlines of your fathers own characteristics with said appliance, only due to the fact that he had passed after the birth of your younger sister. You couldn't say you remembered him at all, not a single memory corresponded with his essence...and you were fine with that because you wouldn't have been able to recollect specific things about your mother that you had cherished internally had she not depicted both the roles of mother and father.
It was ironic, really. After bearing the title your father should have assumed when his blood still pumped within his veins, she was confronted with her own epilogue, akin to the ending her lover was met with. The life of your sister, too, was at the mercy of the reaper laying interest in wresting the esse which it was incompetent and incompatible towards.
Never had you been someone to have fascination endorse the existence of the occult or supernatural-spirits, entities, apparitions, there was never a reflection you could ever recall you dwelled on about the verity of what it may be. However, if it did indeed exist, whether or not it similarly pertained to your own image of it, there was no doubt about the ill-will it would've been inclined to have regarding you. Look at where you stood now. Using the word coincidence seemed like a pretext just to conceal the originality in its place. Coincidences seemed reasonable at times, but during your own time at your own liability, there were too many factors in play that you simply didn't want to accept that it was undoubtedly fate.
