She is a little bit broken, just like me.
This is what makes her so captivating.
She pulls me in with those brown eyes of hers that reflected deep melancholy.
She is definitely quite similar to my melancholies.
The pain in her eyes drew me in because she made being broken seem as though it is grand and exquisite.
Her pain was so beautiful and dark in the way that she still wanted something out there to take it out of her.
You could tell she was somewhat of a hopeless yet sweet creature.
Crawling around aimlessly as though she were on delicate glass, afraid to cut herself and others. She believed in many ideas and people, practically everything, except herself.
People around her envied her but she had no idea.
Her life was as chaotic as the ocean filled with lovely little beasts.
There was fearfulness flowing around her, but none of that mattered to her, because she still believed, naively, even so she believed.
Feeling anything with her was unlike anything you could ever imagine.
Most people were phenomenal at making broken look unattractive. It was easy.
Her darkness was worth drowning in and everyone wanted to have the last breath in her miserableness.
When I met her I could tell that her feelings toward me were a mix of hatred and love.
Because she wanted to feel an emptiness like mine. It was a hunt a consensually sad hunt.
And I wanted to feel all her emotions at once.