"And smiling is downright one of the best things ever." -Brock

He waited for the black to disappear. When the dark would fade into the morning. Patiently patiently he stayed. For the hazy to turn clear. The dull to a crisp and fresh light.
But it didn't come. So he walked. It didn't come. So he ran.
But it didn't come. Fingers touched only air, black air, nonexistent air.
A complete pitch
Black where he came from. But even home could not be found.
Impending doom, and drowning feelings, they all gurgled up in his throat to strangle his lungs and stab the mind. Terror to desperation. desperation to Terror.

Lost. lost. lost...

And so he quietly...sat down. And sat. And slept..in fatigue, in sorrow, in pitiful surrender. The frenzy had passed, and though his eyes could see only black, he knew much more. No friends to save him, no family to cry. He dreamed of colors, and the past that was before.

"Memories are what warm you up from the inside. But they're also what tear you apart."

"Ohmygod ohmygod", I shout inside my head as I scramble to the floor.
From the clouds I crash to the ground, desperately trying to hold the pieces together.
They crumble. They break. They shatter. And slowly down they fall. Slowly..but only in my mind's eye.
The strings, they're shredding. The connections, they fade.
But out loud, only a whisper escapes my lips as the wistful tears well up.
The pictures are now blank, the memories now gone. Too quickly they disappear.
Foreign feelings and stranger words...

"What do I do? What do I do?"