Hell

       I figured out what Hell is. It’s a pit, a pit that never seems to end. When you die you fall into this pit. As you’re falling down this pit you begin to think about your life. The people you loved and lost, the things you never did, things you did and regret. You know you’ll never see them again. Even if they fall too you will always be too far away. And as you fall it gets hotter and hotter, slowly of course, so you can feel it. You fall for a hundred years, a thousand, until it’s hot enough to burn your flesh, a million more and the heat is powerful enough to crack and shatter your bones to dust, but you feel every agonizing moment of it even though your nerves were fried to cinders eons ago. And even when you finally stop falling, you crash into nearly 8000 years worth of human souls who burn in this pit. You can feel the mind numbing weight of the sinners of man piled on top of you. The screams of them all can still be heard through the rough ghostly mouths on every speck of ash and a small laugh in the background of it all can be heard. You hear the echoing screams for eons more and you try not to. You focus on the small amount of laughter, a distraction from the screaming. You take solace in it. It guides you through the torture. And as the world ends all you can hear is the laughter. In the last dying moment, there is happiness in this laughter. But the laughter begins to morph. It becomes visible. You can see every crest and trough on the sound waves, every oscillation, and then it becomes a man. The man is tall, and strong. He carries himself with an air of pride. He is clothed in dark reds, fiery oranges, the blackest black, all in contrast to his pale white skin. His blood red hair drapes down his shoulders, his piercing green eyes look to rival that of a hungry predator. You understand now what the laughter is. It is Azrael, the angel of death. You are caught in his inferno. He reaches out to you with his scythe. He strikes your heart and pulls on your soul. He tears at it, wracking you with pain, trying to rip it from your pile of ash. And your heart shatters as your soul is pulled from your ash and he flies with you, carrying all of the weight on his single great black wing all the way to the top. As he goes over the edge of the pit, he thrusts you into your body, whole again. You are at peace and alive, feeling better than you ever have. You turn to walk away and you see his face. The face you will never forget. And he pushes you into the pit and begins to laugh.

Aries

There is nothing better than a friend.

One to know you very well

And an intelligent tongue to lend

To your ears a better story to tell.

The visage matters not to true

Friends that are common in more ways

Than just trying to find a better view.

They waste away all the days

With simpler things than just life,

Sharing all with better heart

Than those that are rife

With a less than loving part.

So close now we’re bonded so tight

It’s you I want to hold me in the night.

In Medias Res

   For You: We really are exactly alike. Except for when we aren't. We both want to tell our story but I can't start at the beginning. There's too much. Like every good epic of the ages, I'll start somewhere in the middle. You'll just have to figure out the rest.

   My heart aches. I've tried so hard to fix everyone else's problems that I fuck up my own life. I get so lost in things that I can never figure out what is what and which feeling belongs to who or even who I am. It's tiresome. And more than that, the who that this feeling belongs to is where I can't reach. How is this going to work?
   All I know is that the confusion is costing me a lifetime.

   I wish I could write you all letters. Letters telling you exactly what is in my head. Letters that will finally make you understand whats going on inside me. I can't do that though. So I'll just write one letter and give it to whichever one of you wants to read it. I hope you like it.

Dear ...whoeveryouare,

     I miss you. If we haven't talked in a while, it's not because I don't want to. I just don't have the heart. Every time I hear of the things happening with you, I'm speechless. I feel like I can't be a part of that, whether the events be good or bad. I only ever wanted to be there for you, to hold your hand, to be a shoulder to cry on, wipe away your tears. I know I probably promised I would, and believe me, if you weren't the only one that needed my help I would always be there. It's hard caring for so many but hey, you're the one that said my savior complex was attractive. Please, I know this letter is going to be short, but just know that however few words I put here, I'll always be there the second you ask for me. You do have to ask though. I'm not psychic. So call me or something. I'll listen to you talk. I promise.
                                                                                                                            With Love,
                                                                                                                                       Me :3
   Take it as you will. In fact, if you think this is about you in some way, for the love of God say something to me. It would make my life.