˚ ·. · 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｡⋆
You often wondered what your life would be like had it not been unwillingly volunteered to bear such a heavy burden of terminal infirmity the way it had done so with ease. It was a dangerously rational outlook to meditate over, once a thought had been given the utmost hospitality, it would find itself reappearing and broadening its resolution. It was all built up on falsehoods that would never come to pass, and in a way it paved the road for self-destruction. That in of itself was a silent but virulent disease and as of now, there was no known elixir for these seemingly harmless repercussions. But one should not be fooled, even if trivial little daydreams were all they ever were, all they could ever hope to surmount to, the damage it caused was unforgivable.
Not once had it stopped you.
Never had you been someone interested in sports, perhaps because of your lacking in all that was required to succeed in the field. Maybe you would have joined a gardening club, or a calligraphy club, even something theatrical, but you would never know the luxury of having to acquaint yourself with potential interests and what those interests could allow you to achieve, where they could possibly take you in life.
You would have had a normal graduation come spring. College would come right after that, and maybe you would have waited a year until you decided to take the entrance exams, and maybe you would have failed. There was always next year, wasn't there? Not in this world, timeline, or even reality. The only aspect of next year you wondered about was if whether or not you would be alive instead of rotting in a forgotten grave.
Normal was something that did not find you interesting so it used a miscellany of undeterred dilemmas smeared in woe to compensate for all the monotony it happened upon by a whim. Ten years later and the outlook which brought you here retained its tenacity. There was, howbeit, one flaw in its equation that defied all odds; Manjiro Sano was the name.
Something was going on inside of your body and you had no control over it, much less an understanding of what it was programmed to do. But you knew one thing: Mikey was your salvation to normality, the way you conformed to him and your feelings having already surrendered to him, the ones he himself had been tethered to on a short leash, you felt like a schoolgirl with a sprouting crush. The word seemed so vague and minuscule, surely it outstretched the threshold of that definition; it had to be something considerable that overshadowed all sorts of expectations. He reacted to it and projected your appetencies, rewarding your tender heart with feasible desires that were able to change at any moment's given notice.
