As it was, objection was never an option.



我還傻傻等到奇跡出現的那一天...



When the world comes crashing down and you have nothing left to hold on to, past loyalties don't matter anymore. The only thing that matters is the heart. That's when the heart expires and turns sour.



He could feel the emptiness within bear new meaning; the loss of his own soul was replaced by his deep wrath and loathing for the demon standing before him. The overwhelming emotions of self pity and want for his own escape, brought on by the torture of memories and trauma. His fragile existence was pummeled over and over by the daily assault from every plane; fear, paranoia, pain, memory, shame, disrespect, loathing, despair, and betrayal. All these poisons had delivered deadly blows upon him, and rendered him filled with nothing but these emotions, standing upon the ruins that were the remnants his obliterated soul.



When you look in those eyes growing steadily darker and the heavy menace presses down on you, radiating from the spawn of the abyss looming above you, you'll find that your perfect world was nothing but an illusion.



Scars don't lie.



In that fleeting moment, a deep, dark nostalgia reflects a glimpse of a child I once knew, chained and wounded within a cage, silently praying for help, yet receiving nothing. The betrayal within that fractured heart; the hopelessness and the helplessness that plagued the form...When that figure finally cries, silently, and the clouds' shadows eclipse that pitifully sorrowful form, is retaliation even possible?

A heart so fragile can never be mended.



After a certain point, a heart with so many stress fractures can never be anything but broken.



"Bad is not an absolute, but a relative term. Ask the robber who used the cash he stole to feed his infant; the rapist who was sexually abused as a child; the kidnapper who truly believed he was saving a life. And just because you break the law doesn't mean you have intentionally crossed the line into evil. Sometimes the line creeps up on you, and before you know it, you're standing on the other side."
— Jodi Picoult (Vanishing Acts)



Nobody wants to admit to this, but bad things will keep on happening. Maybe that's because it's all a chain, and a long time ago someone did the first bad thing, and that led someone else to do another bad thing, and so on.

You know, like that game where you whisper a sentence into someone's ear, and that person whispers it to someone else, and it all comes out wrong in the end.

But then again, maybe bad things happen because it's the only way we can keep remembering what good is supposed to look like.



When you don't fit in, you become superhuman. You can feel everyone else's eyes on you, stuck like Velcro. You can hear a whisper about you from a mile away. You can disappear, even when it looks like you're still standing right there. You can scream, and nobody hears a sound.
You become the mutant who fell into the vat of acid, the Joker who can't remove his mask, the bionic man who's missing all his limbs and none of his heart.
You are the thing that used to be normal, but that was so long ago, you can't even remember what it was like.



If you spent your life concentrating on what everyone else thought of you, would you forget who you really were? What if the face you showed the world turned out to be a mask... with nothing beneath it?



When you've waited forever;
forever was over;
you're nothing but a hungover,

what do you do?


What can you do...?



Lightning playing across the sky. Who will it strike next? Who will be the next to fall in this game of chess?