joe_shane

To spend years building a house, you learn to fill it with the things you can't find a place for
Unaware it stacked up, over time the walls you painted begin to peel, the carpet begins to mat, and it grows with a clutter you thought you didn't mind, but no you couldn't mind that, where else would you put it.
All your doors are closed, some locked, and some filled.

And soon your locked inside.

How long does it take to know you can't stay inside there, you can't live amongst a past your not a part of anymore
A family that isn't there anymore, how long does it take to know you can't leave.
It's then you can panic, maybe nobody will notice, maybe nobody will see if you loose yourself in the home you built.

But is it the same home if you destroy it.
Burn it from the inside, flip the tables, rip up the carpet and destroy your house.
Leave your house.
Or burn down with it, for if a house is divided by itself, it will not be able to stand.

14MNDR6

Within what felt like seconds he was home again, or at least what posed as his home, for he had built a hike inside his head even cluttered and decrepit he came back to it every day.

To sit in that same couch that had begun to reflect him, to stare at the television as he created his own scenes, each one had burnt into the screen by now.

Mrs cambel nodded without a word for Ronin found the seat again as well as the words he'd wanted to get out.

"Yeah but sometimes it gets too loud, a-and then I can't find the remote" his voice grew fast and repetitive as she tried to depict what he said from the words hed repeat.

"Then what happens?" She asked looking apon the walls he had been staring at through the conversation, "w-well then I have get my dad and he goes over to it" Ronins eyes could only look the wall up and down in a matter only he could understand.

"Is that all he does, he doesn't turn it down?" He eyebrows met in a pull.

"No, no he doesn't do that, he just touches the buttons" she looked at him in a curiosity when those words escaped his mouth.

"Who don't you think this works?" Her voice sounded again as she examined his steadying body language.

"Well it doesn't help, I just tell him it does" he said with a subtlety somber tone that matched with the sink into his chair. Before she could ask why, Ronins voice had grown sharply "then he feels better, b-becuase I know sometimes he feels sad, especially when I mess up" his sentence ended in a low note.

Her eyes widened as the painting In front of her became clear, for Ronin hadn't been staring at the wall, but the shadow of himself, a darker reflection of himself. She could watch his hands shake on the wall, as if it were projecting the part he hid.

The shadow glared at Ronin a vicious eye and a manipulative grin, the figure would walk around, it would point at him, like the knife that cut with his words, for he had learned even the truth could hurt him, cut him, until a looning bleed would escape, as if the stranger in his head leaked out, for the more the almost black liquid would stain his skin slowly creeping up, his words, actions, thoughts, would seep out with it.

For thats when he'd lash out with words he couldn't control, for until he sealed the wound this overtaking would continue, for until he learned how heal, he could only sit and watch himself disappear behind the stranger he'd become.

chapter 6