Déjà vu
One of my poor fanfiction attempt. My lovely beta hasn’t checked it yet, so look out for mistakes!!!
I’d just like an opinion… should I keep on writing this? I had this idea last night…
So, if there’s anyone left who loves Hetalia, and incredibly still follow my blog, I’d really like your opinions on this: Yuri’s fic
Luv ya
I’m going to publish my only two Sherlock fanfics and the only one english Hetalia fanfic, so there’s nothing interesting so far…. but just to let you know…
Fragrant island
I start noticing my surroundings: soft mattress under my hip, rough bedclothes over my cheek, a pillow shoved under my head. It’s wet. Tears. Not my smell. Another smell, melancholic, sad, beloved. Absent. I can notice it on this pillow only; the world’s walls are closing around this bed.
The atrocious pain in my chest is coming back as I wake. I need to hide it under this pillow, the bedclothes, the mattress, anything. I need to block it out. I’m still weeping and I think this is the only thing I’ve ever been able to do.
Need unconsciousness.
Soft, reluctant steps circumnavigate the bed, my island, my world. I can’t see who is coming, I don’t want to see, but I know. I can still hear.
“I talked to the doctor.”
I used to be the doctor. What happened to me?
“He said you should take these.”
Oh, yes. I know what happened. I don’t want to remember.
“These will make you sleep, dear.”
My mind is trying to separate itself; I can barely feel my movements. I take two pills. Cold water runs in my chest. For a moment I’m afraid it will fall in the big black hole I have instead of my heart.
My leg burns. It has never hurt so much.
Don’t move. Don’t breathe.
Just sleep.
Just die.
Too soon
*Welcome in YouChat* - 27th July, 3.36 pm
*John221 has entered the chat*
John221: Unbelievable. But I’m here.
John221: Is anyone here?
John221: Ok, this is utterly ridiculous, I’m leaving
User1895: Hey
John221: …..talking to me?
User1895: Well, I’m typing, actually
John221: So you’re typing to me
User1895: Precisely. It’s not very crowded today, isn’t it?
John221: Do you come here often?
User1895: Not so often. Most of the time it’s populated by maniacs and aroused teenagers
John221: I must suppose you’re not one of them, so. Heartening.
User1895: What about you?
John221: I’m not a maniac, I’m just here… to spend my time but… well is not a good period to me and… no, maye I should not talk about this to a complete stranger. My therapist suggested me to write a blog, so maybe I’m supposed to confide to you but I’m not sure this is the right way and…. uhm, sorry
User1895: …
User1895: I meant: what about you? What’s your name? How old are you?
John221: Oh
John221: Oh! Ok, right! I’m John. It was quite predictable. I live in London. And you?
User1895: I’m Mary, I live in London, too. Pleased to meet you
