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(Source: too-soon-and-in-vain, via vintague)
a little late night fiction.
I’ve always been told I could be whatever I wished to be, I therefore became a freelance lover, distributing the required doses of love to those in need.
Because I too, felt needy once.
Because I too, know what its like to feel forgotten, suppressed by an unforgiving terrene.
i’m in eminent light of what it is like to be “left outside in the cold”.
I thrived on seeing them blossom in the spring like warmth.
I felt that the gain was my own, as my once hefty spirit, ascended.
I became the fairy tale every child grew to fulfill.
master of my diversion, only few could adorn mere words as I would.
and only few could remark, the deep, withheld, assets that each person kept unravelled, like I could.
as my ego inflated, I slowly lost track of my own desires, I suppose I got swept out of my senses, and into a light airy bliss of over all gratification.
those who claim you cannot please everyone, well, its mere fiction.
you can please everyone to their contentment, and subsequently become a martyr of your own selflessness.
as the days went by, I could only feel the once fueled, fiery soul of mine perish to cold, still ashes.
for fate, the grandest gamer of all, had demonstrated that like in birth and in death, in the life we live people must come, and people must go, as well.
(via vintague)
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