I am...I'm your favorite backpack, worn and patched, a broken zipper here, a frayed strap there, But I've always been there, and together, we will stay forever.
I am...I'm your favorite Ipod, out of date with cracked screen, low on room, and filled with old, old tunes, my outside is but a simple gray, but it's okay, you love me anyway.
Life is...Life is more random than paint splatters.
Summer is...Summer is a glistening red apple, warmed by the sun.
Fear is...Fear is a monster that devours all logic of the mind.
Love is...Love is a fluttering, fluffy moth.
Anger Is...Anger is a blade tearing at the heart.
40. FearFear. Crawling up my spine like a trail of ants. Causing every last hair to stand on end, as if by electric shock. It's the wet warm feeling of urine down my pant leg. The humming of the silent air. The icy cloud of breath hanging before my face. Slowly I turn around...Only to find him standing before me. I open my mouth to scream, but it's too late to even let out a whimper.
Painting with FEARBlood. In my mouth. In my eyes. All I can taste is the saltiness of the blood. All I can smell is the heavy stench of rust. All I hear is the rattling of chains, and his laughter. Oh, that maniacal cackling! How it ground down on every last nerve in my body!But that laughter also sends chills up my spine, creeping slowly like honey off a spoon. He speaks sugar sweet words as he places a blade against my neck. I freeze. I dare not even breathe, for I know now, that the end is here.