Fighting Back

Why does this hurt? I think of what I can do, and I'm woefully inadequate. I can't do anything right. My curse, and ultimately my undoing.

You called me a star, but I wonder, what happens when a star dies? Does it scatter into a bazillion stars?

I'll one day tell a story about the irreparably broken boy, who once believed in fairy tales, in happily ever afters.

That boy stopped existing, when the first wave hit. Like a resounding thunderclap, it broke all resolve to heal.

Now that boy exists, to break and destroy all that hurt him once. But then, what's life if not hurts and various pains?

Hell doesn't exist, for it's here on earth. His life, a virtual representation of it.

You called me a star, but now I wonder, do stars get broken? If so, can they ever be fixed?

There's no salvation, no solace. There's nothing, but perdition, damnation.

Nothing is worth it, the memories are back, and, nothing, absolutely nothing to fend them off.