There were million little reasons to not love him,
And million little things that I despised now.
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Her:
Unwanted emotions,
I didn't want any of it, any of them.
From the outside, she seems adorned with all that glitters-wealth, celebrity, and...
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I stand in the center of the living room, my chest heaving with each ragged breath as waves of anger crash against the shores of my mind. Everything feels like it's closing in on me, suffocating me in this vortex of frustration and rage.
Without warning, my fists clench tightly at my sides, nails digging into my palms as if seeking to draw blood. The urge to scream is overwhelming, yet I swallow it down, unwilling to let anyone else hear the turmoil raging within me.
In one swift, violent motion, I lunge forward, grabbing the nearest object within reach—a decorative vase— and hurling it against the wall with all the force I can muster. The satisfying shatter echoes through the room, momentarily drowning out the chaotic symphony playing in my head.
But it's not enough. It's never enough.
I stalk across the room, my movements erratic and uncontrolled, as I sweep books and trinkets off the shelves, their contents scattering across the floor like debris in the aftermath of a storm. The crash of breaking glass and splintering wood accompanies each destructive outburst, a twisted soundtrack to my descent into madness.
Tears blur my vision, mixing with the sweat on my brow as I continue to thrash about, unable to contain the tempest raging inside me. Every shattered picture frame, every overturned piece of furniture is a release, a fleeting moment of catharsis in a world gone mad.
Finally spent, I collapse to my knees amidst the wreckage, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I survey the devastation I've wrought. The once-cozy living room now lies in ruins, a testament to the fury that consumes me from within.
And yet, beneath the rubble and chaos, there lingers a sense of hollow emptiness, a gnawing ache that no amount of destruction can assuage. For in the wake of my rampage, I am left alone with nothing but the echoes of my own despair, trapped in a cycle of anger and regret from which there seems to be no escape.
As I kneel amidst the wreckage of my living room, tears streaming down my cheeks, a soft whimper breaks through the silence. Turning my head, I see Shiloh, my golden retriever puppy, cautiously making his way towards me, his tail tucked between his legs in concern.
Despite my turmoil, a flicker of warmth stirs within me as Shiloh approaches, his gentle eyes filled with empathy. Without hesitation, he nuzzles against me, his fur soft against my trembling form, offering a wordless solace that speaks volumes.
I wrap my arms around him, burying my face in his fur, allowing his presence to anchor me amidst the chaos. His steady breathing and the rhythmic thud of his tail against the floor serve as a soothing counterpoint to the storm still raging within me.
In his simple yet profound way, Shiloh offers me a lifeline, a reminder that even in my darkest moments, I am not alone. With his unwavering loyalty and unconditional love, he helps to mend the shattered pieces of my spirit, offering hope where there was once only despair.
