So, these regular meltdowns have become a stagnant story. No one cares. And, She doesn’t bother anymore. Her mind endlessly roams the path of ambitions to survive in a world, where wicked sluts are regular rhythm and wise housewives are loners. She has become a creature of the night, cold and… just cold.
She awaits death to release her from a hypocritic and cynic land where no one belongs to her, where she belongs to everyone. Her ambitions are to blame! These fucking ambitions drive her soul to the edge of a burning hell and discovering her vulnerabilities is the fear, consuming her. Ruthlessly.
A piece of her is apt for the prerequisites but she’s a devoted tale of consumed arrogance, blended with a number of failures to catalyze the inferno of success she is yet to achieve.
But these meltdowns have become a stagnant story and she is fucking lost right now!
© Cereus Florus. 2018.