DeadBoy6FeetUnder

     The view from the ill crafted tree stand was melancholy. The air was frigid with the threat of a fast-approaching snowfall, and I could see billowing clouds rise in front of me as I exhaled an exasperated sigh. The inhale that proceeded it was torturous. My mouth was dry and tasted strongly of salt. The cause? dehydration. Once the blood roaring in my ears quieted itself I heard a sound that tied my stomach in knots. Far off in the underbrush I detected the sickening crack of a skeletal shrub being tread upon. My gaze swiftly ripped itself from the darkening sky to study the frostbitten ground around my soaring perch. The blood in my vei

       He sat in the miserable cold. A small stone room, his prison for eternity. His pride had gotten him here, he had refused to submit, and where had it gotten him? Living in unbearable, never ending agony. A literal hell on earth that plagued every second of his tortured existence. He was an angel, infected with a sickly disease that threatened to change him to the side of the demons. It had tormented him for the past six years, but still not overcome him, he continued to fight, refusing to ever bow to the hell spawn. Six years. No food, no water, no oxygen. This is how they tried to break him. And there he sat, chained to the wall, iron

The worst thing about me is my personality, or rather, the personality I am currently using. I can not say this is my personality, because to be honest I can't even remember what I was like originally. it's not like I can ask anyone what I was like when I was little because everyone has a different answer, so how am I supposed to know who is right? Changing who I was so many times and faking so many emotions when I was young, to the point that I could no longer tell what was real and what was not. This was because I wanted to make everyone happy, which I now know all too well was a lost cause, because it doesn't matter who you are or what you