hydrangea. (?)

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his hands raised infront of him, he struggled to focus.

"you're so bad that it feels creepy."

were these the voices techno had alwyas described? sinister things, whisperinf in the back of his mind like parasites and controlling his every movement, as if his body were not his own any longer.

"things like meaning are already in the bottom of a dustcart."

his own thoughts were scrambled like eggs in a pan, or like paperwork on a desk. there was no coherent order to them, only chaos.

"voices of the world are still begging for life,"

why was he still here? standing as if nothing had happened, holding a flower close to his heart as if it may be dragged away in the wind if his grip were too loose.

"and yelling 'shut up', here floats my sight in zero chromas."

he barely registered the colours around him and the people's chatter when he was around any at all. why should he be? he has no purpose to be.

"i get goosebumps at your self-righteous kindness, since it's merely opportunism."

why did they still see him the way he did? did his actions not change his image in their mind's eye? wasn't it supposed to?

"with that standard you made by imitating and copying 'common sense', the society says,"

adopting an image of stability and care, he was sure he'd crack at the slightest touch, and he almost did when the only other person who'd remind him of him touched his shoulder so gently, making him want to cry out and scream in frustration.

"you measured my heart."

and he made small talk as he always did. and as he always would continue to do, until the day came where he must take his turn, too.

"heyyy, listen to me,"

the voice inside wanted to scream at the world for them to just listen to him for once. listen to his concerns and worries and make it all go away, just make it go away, please.

"i just hate you!"

he hates them all. every single one. he wants destruction but can't find the strength. he wants chaos but is too cowardly to make the first move, not without his backbone.

"so, pleaaaaaaaaaaaase don't look at my face,"

he wanted to cover his bare skin in porcelain in attempts to hide his sins and in hopes of creating a shelter for his own state.

"just finish this without saying a word."

conversations never worked the same anymore. what happend to his composure? he felt he could no longer speak without cracks in his marble voice, the one he so tenderly built to hide it all.

"yes, you lose no time in telling an honest lie."

oh, what a liar, what a liar he is! how delightful it is to lie convincingly, oh the glee! he wanted to tear it all to shreds. every single truth about himself.

until maybe they could finally see the real truth and stop driving him up the wall by acting accordingly?

"and answering 'yes' to every question."

he lost the ability to converse properly and no one wanted to engage any longer. he would respond yes to open questions and receive suspecting looks that inferred sorrow in his already fragile heart. soon, they could finally despise him for what he was.

"the gray of the asphalt crawling in my windpipe will recall the frozen petrichor."

finally, rain. oh how he missed the feeling of the sting of rain on his midnight feathers and his bare hands and head as his hat lay at his side. and he stared into the clouds for something to be seen, anything, even if he wasn't sure exactly what.

"it's getting out of sync and just squeaking,"

and he can no longer interact. he's started to completely disassociate with everything, and his world was falling apart.

"so i sew it with a machine, and eventually it gets tangled, dying to be null."

he tried to stitch his broken body back together, in hopes of rediscovering his voice and building his soul once again. but how could he? it all just fell apart and pulled more of his sanity with it as a result of tampering.

"crouching down in the depths of my hippocampus,"

home no longer felt like home. the quite literal dead silence made his ears pop and his heart beat frantically. please make a sound!

"the pale red is just floating without raising a whirl."

all he could see was red. everything was red, whether it was from recently or as a cause of his anger, he didn't know. maybe a very carefully created concoction of both, served to him on a silver platter as to make it seem pretty. he made a mistake.

"the quiet sensitivity will be completed with cheers."

the celebration of the rise of a once fallen country came and he dragged himself along to witness his own son's rise in power once again. was he his son anymore? would they still ever be the same? and keeping to himself in the corner, it was quite unlike the loud, sailor-mouthed idol he once was to many people. he brought down an unexplainable depression on the attendees of the celebration, and quickly fled when he'd realized the atmosphere.

"because there's no inertia, it's near to quick-drying."

hopefully his blood will run cold and dry, and the balance of his life will tip to the left as he crosses.

"with the vanquished 'one, two, three!', my silly talent is played backwards."

his own creations were dull, not as full of life as they used to be. he lacked the energy to create, and the god of totems and life who had once looked up to the once legend now only had concern in his eyes whenever they crossed paths. it made him sick.

"the sense of accomplishment has become chronic, and i will lack it forever."

it was a most terrible disease for an artist to become infected with; nothing appealed to his purpose anymore. nothing held a place in his now void chest, where a heart once was.
now, he wasn't even sure he still had such an unbelievable thing.

"hey, reply to me, i just hate you."

the cracks had spread too far for him to control and it was becoming increasingly obvious that he was breaking like a porcelain teacup set down too hard. maybe he should have built himself of cardboard, instead. surely ripping to shreds would be much more merciful, no?
he wanted the country and its neighbours to throw him down and dispose of him like sharpener shreddings.

"so, pleaaaaaaaaaaase don't look at my face."

his once beautiful face covered in old age that glowed of kindness and attracted much fortune now sagged with sorrow and an empty, cracked shell.

"never listen to anything, just rot away."

rotting away, quite literally, was a good description to his state. he was no longer recognizable in the faces of those he once loved. they still loved him, what was he doing?! why was he pushing the world away?!! WHAT'S HAPPENING?? (leave me alone.)

"it still hurts, to be honest."

everything hurt. every muscle, every tendon and bone and every smallest effort made for movement.
even thinking hurt. he wanted to leave the world and experience that better place everyone always described when a loved one died.

"let me apply blue abuse to my cuts."

he could feel the bruises on his body, on his mind as he awoke everyday to another pointless ceiling. he'd forgotten how it felt to experience liveliness and love.

"the purple by the window, wet with rain,"

the only thing he held in perfect condition was the one thing that broke him the most. it never left, it haunted him like salt on his many wounds. it was the final event to seal the cracks left by every event before. and he finally shattered, the shards of his soul piercing every crevice of his reality and shrouded him in an inescapable darkness as he recalled the death of the enderman he loved so much, and the way he brutally murdered his closest friend in an uncontrollable rage that had descended upon him with no warning, and no obvious cause. and the only thing he could do was wail in agony as he held the blood god's body close and felt his hair trickle over his hands.

"fits you perfectly, hydrangea!"

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i hope you got chills reading this because i somehow did and IM THE ONE WHO WROTE IT

anyway GODAKDBHE i havent been back in so long holy shit how does it feel lollll

ANYWAY IT FEELS SO GOOD TO BE BACK AND WRITE MORE ANGST!!!!!!!!! I HOPE THIS WAS OF BETTER QUALITY THAN THE OTHERS >:)

now i can finally find the motifs to get back to your requests. in the meantime, enjoy this little idea i had based off of my favourite song, hydrangea by LonePi

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