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i am done writing about the gods
and the devils
and the demons and angels and ghosts and saints and all the other bloodstains splattered on my past.
they may all live in my head
but they aren’t real.
what’s real is the emptiness.
i have felt it spread across everything i have to offer. i feel it draining the life out of my skin, i see the honey fade from my eyes, leaving them black. i sit alone. i will not write about how the gods laugh and the devils take my hand. how the demons scratch at my skull, how the angels cry and the ghosts stare and how the blood spills.
none of that is real.
the reality of the emptiness is so strong it takes away everything. it took my heart. my breath. it took the people i love. it stole the tiniest piece of joy i had stuck to my memories, and made me think every laugh was a lie.
i’m so tired.
i think i’ll lie down for a while.
until the gods stop laughing and the devils let go. until the demons relent and the angels cheer up and the ghosts turn around and the blood clots.
because it’s all real. i’ve felt them all. they’re all a part of the emptiness that grows.