the cruelest cure

     

"they say time heals everything. it does.
  
  

 you're down.

 you're injured.

 wounded.

 it hurts. 

 bad. 

 you expect to black out from the pain in a matter of seconds and eventually die, but you can't even do that, and it keeps getting worse by the minute.

  
   
 since you're not dying anytime soon, you might try crying for help.
 you don't.

 you won't.

 you lost it.

 the will.

 there's no point anymore.

 in life, love, lust, death..

 it's over.
  
  

 it's not your life that's over, no, that'd be too easy; you're over.

 you're done.

 you're spent.

 you don't have an ounce of power to get off the ground, and even if you did, you wouldn't use it anyway.

   
   
 also, your brain is not capable of giving the command to move at the moment.

 it's stuck.

 stuck in that very last minute of sanity, playing it over and over and over again in whatever's left of that mind of yours. you can't take your eyes off of it, you won't be able see anything else for a long while. you won't be able to see if your wounds are fatal or not.
  
  

 it doesn't matter. you don't have any wounds.

 you feel like you're bleeding out, but it's all on the inside. no, it's not internal bleeding, either. it is similar, though.
  

 it's like some sort of greek fire has been forced down your throat.
   
   

 you better get used to it, it's going to keep burning a hole in your lungs for quite a while.."
  
   

 

  

  

"it's something unpredictable, but in the end is right, i hope you had the time of your life.."