I start to cough and choke a bit. Then I notice the debris of ashes on my lap. They're white and black, powdery and stagnant. The sultry atmosphere with its humidity starts to irritate my eyes. They're dry and itchy.
"Doesn't it make you sick?", I start already knowing what to expect as an answer. Still, it feels odd and everything is swaying in motion now.
"Sure. It makes me sick, physically. One day I will die of this sickness, this unhealthy body. Other than that, I'm too used being sick without knowing what makes me sick anymore", followed by a shrug and even a weary smile.
One day you will make me sick and it will kill me first.
I hold his hand tight, and collapse into everything else. His fingers are twisted, palm warm and sticky at the same time. A flame burns from the other hand, between fore finger and middle finger, curled into their usual position. It's a death threat, that flame.
One day it will destroy us.
ii.
Julia is beautiful. I'm in love with her. "I love you till it makes me sick", I need to tell her that. She deserves to know.
-
Sundays are often depressing :( as it is now. Even more when I have to get up early and start a new week. I shouldn't be talking about my week to come be positve be positive be positive
Let's talk about the weather instead. Contrary to what books say, the weather is actually quite interesting to discuss. Winter is coming and my lips are more prone to bleeding, fingers turning into icicles, the smell of the heater. One month till I'll be home. Maybe I should start feeling more ecstatic. But not really :(
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