recluse

after midnight & i was writing.
i'm becoming such a recluse, i never leave my room anymore.
just me & my computer.


She built a river to keep her emotions detached; her thoughts performed more clinical operations than a doctor. She lost her herself in the onslaught of the storm; it ripped her spirit out to sea, drowned her carefree thoughts in seas of black. The receding tide was all that remained. She was nothing more than a shell, abandoned and discarded in the empty night. The wind cursed her idealistic dreams. The rain seeped through her innocent worldview, blurring the ink of her once-eloquent coherences. The straight line she followed was washed away by the incoming tide. The surge of the waves clung to her frail resistance, flooding even her isolated soul. Until all that was left, was a shell that externally seemed the same, yet internally all was lost. She was never the same again after the storm embraced her with such a suffocating, controlling grip. She was never the same.


and now; watching spirited away, then death note, then skip beat. oh my.