Skin of the Night

The days had been warm, the only comfort he seemed to be able to find in his current emotional state. She had left, and that was likely for the better, but that didn’t mean it would make the pain any easier to work through; nor did it mean it was anything he was yet willing to accept.

His drives would seem endless, and that was fine with him, he never wanted them to end anyway. No longer was there anywhere he saw himself going, there was no home waiting for him, there was nothing drawing him near, so he sought to find a new reason to wake up in the morning. The time did enough to teach him that he could no longer entrust his overall state of well-being in the hands of another. Though they may help, it’s no one duty but his own to ensure his well-being. Damnnit, if this wasn’t one of the worst feelings he thought through; it was a normal state of existence to put everything he had into another person, and hope for those feelings to be reciprocated. He didn’t know how to exsist otherwise, no longer was he just trying to get back to normal, but instead he was having to figure out how to completely change himself.

The summer air would fill him up, slowly piecing his spirit back bit by bit. Though the days were long they would quickly lead into the night, placing a fear of uncertainty deep inside him. With the night came inevitable rest, and the thoughts which would accompany this rest, did nothing but tear him back down. Every night was another opportunity to revisit the mistakes made, and the beauty that was now absent. Every night was another battle to keep himself sane, so that he may be able to eventually make it through; but it was because of this the night was always deep inside of him, haunting him.