- Genres
- Magical, Fantasy, Supernatural, Sci Fi, Steam Punk, Noir, HORROR, and I'm willing to try Romance.
We all knew it had to come to this.
It isn't as though the audience didn't see it coming. We foreshadowed this cataclysm back in the heyday. Before I kissed my teenager years goodbye, we had already drawn enough opinions from our (my) friends to see the collision.
But gods did we take awhile getting here.
Somewhere between College End and two nights past I buried romance beneath compromise and became it's gargoyle gravestone. It's not a perfect break, certainly not as poetically Armageddon as I pictured it...but what it lacks in dramatics it makes up for in finality.
It's over.
Six years.
I should feel happier, I suppose. I was all but separated...but six years is a long time to grow accustomed to something, even something that wasn't all that helpful. So sitting here tonight, alone in my room, I miss you. Ironic. You spent so long trying to get me to consent to making this your room too.
And I just want to watch a movie with you...talk about the secret life of stars, all the old stuff we did in college before you forgot who you were.
I'm too young to feel old, but this was the longest relationship I ever had.
Is it wrong to feel sad now, long after I was done mourning?
It isn't as though the audience didn't see it coming. We foreshadowed this cataclysm back in the heyday. Before I kissed my teenager years goodbye, we had already drawn enough opinions from our (my) friends to see the collision.
But gods did we take awhile getting here.
Somewhere between College End and two nights past I buried romance beneath compromise and became it's gargoyle gravestone. It's not a perfect break, certainly not as poetically Armageddon as I pictured it...but what it lacks in dramatics it makes up for in finality.
It's over.
Six years.
I should feel happier, I suppose. I was all but separated...but six years is a long time to grow accustomed to something, even something that wasn't all that helpful. So sitting here tonight, alone in my room, I miss you. Ironic. You spent so long trying to get me to consent to making this your room too.
And I just want to watch a movie with you...talk about the secret life of stars, all the old stuff we did in college before you forgot who you were.
I'm too young to feel old, but this was the longest relationship I ever had.
Is it wrong to feel sad now, long after I was done mourning?