I have this feeling.
This worming feeling, that I can't ever seem to describe.
It was there when I realized that my mother would die, it was there when the rollercoaster reached the top of the ride, it was there when I told her that this was goodbye.
And it wants to destroy me, It wants me to become a splatter in the wall, a beautiful painting of a corpse destroyed beyond recognition.
But I want it too, god it feels so good, its so good.
I'ts the good grade after failing the class. the good morning after your grandfather's death. When you find a coin on the ground after your boss fired you.
You need me, whatever you are. But I need you more, because if I am Icarus then you are the fire-hungry wings.
And what it and I can both see, is that we are flying towards the sun, towards suicide, towards falling out of reality. And I beg of you feeling of mine.
Will the painting of my death be beautiful enough to be worth it?