Tend

Moan all you like. I don't mind.

I'm trying to explain it without sounding like a 12 year old writing a horror story, but it is too close. I have to be carefull.

When there is time, I wi001010000111100000101001eXBvcnRuZW1haQ==

Things

I'm trying to reach out. Read my words, between the lines, so you do not forget me, and so you can understand.

It gets closer with every second that passes. I'll tell my story soon, before I forget it.

I don't mean to be cryptic, but I have little choice.

All

Somehow I knew, from the first moment I saw that picture that it would all happen again.
Last time I was so young, when I think back now, it forms in my memory like a recurring
empty dream from my childhood, never sure if it really happened.

Now it’s back, and this time I won’t need to convince myself in the future that it was real.

Despite my conviction, I write this to ensure that I never forget that this is real,
even though I try to explain it away in my head. I need to remember, remember how
real this is. Because something this time makes me think that it won’t stop. It will keep
making its enveloping snare enticing, thrilling and decaying. It knows I know this, and
all of my thoughts and dreams are open to it. It will feed off my consciousness until there's
nothing left.

It tells me this because it knows that I am sucked in too far, its gentle caress too
soothing. I dare not speak it’s name in case it leaves me. But something in me is trying to
help reach out of the mire and scream it out loud. I am torn between escape and
entrapment, not even sure which I desire the most.

Remember me, for I may not. I can only last so long before the arms contain
every ounce of me, and nothing remains but my deep lasting love for it. Then it has won