White Nights by Fyodor Dostoyevsky is just a story of a man getting friend zoned, twice. ??

Wrongs of long ago are more easily criticized than put right.
-Boccaccio (The Decameron)

The consciousness of life is higher than life, the knowledge of happiness is higher than happiness – that is what we have to fight against!

~Fyodor Dostoevsky (Dreams of a Ridiculous Man)

“Gorgeous” I hear him whisper.

I stare into his eyes, “Gorgeous”, my voice echoes in the halls of Victoria.
My fingertips touching his, covered in red.

“This is epic, Jena”

This was the first time I painted myself, I wonder if he compliments the work or me? I often blush at the mere thought of him complimenting me.
Pretty; I have fallen for a boy with misty eyes. Again, I stare into the mist.

With a thud he falls onto the floor, I turn around and complete my work, I fill my lips with the red fluid of him.
“Gorgeous” I whisper.

I relapsed.
They brought me here 3 hours ago. I remember I struggled to breathe. I struggled to live. My death was closer to me than I had ever wished it to be. My heart felt like it had been caged, I felt like I had touched the fingertips of death. It was close but I survived.

Now, why write about it you wonder?
To remember, I have a strange tendency to forget things, a cognitive impairment in the jargon of science.

“Jena, keep the phone down”
“Nope,” I laugh.
My mother, yells often but this time it was almost a whisper.
“I am writing something, darling”, I sound similar to her, in whispers.

The screen has a red drop visible, now two. Fuck. My nose bleeds again.

“Mother NO” I yell, my device is now replaced with a tissue. Fuck again.

“You will not touch any devices today, nor in future.”
“But you had finally allowed me to write after so long of a struggle why am I being restricted again?”
“No one restricts you from writing, Jena, her”.
A pen and paper? What a joke! Never mind, I wish not to speak against the dad, not today.
HA! I tore the paper away and went to sleep.

@herpeople

"I never bargain"

I hear him whisper.

Just for a night, I desired he would forbid me from the pain, but he had done this to me every night.
Every single night.
My dignity, he had thrashed it every night.

So sizably he hungers, just like me.

I hunger his terrific death, and he, he hungers me, my body.

I desire for him the hell he held me in. More destructive than that.

©~Mystic Vk~