Slow Moving There I sat, it was dark and cold. But this time, out. Of all my years here, the stars has finally shown themselves clearly to all to see. Luna has offered it's light for all of us to uplifted. It all felt that way. Because the one who sat beside me, was the one who I loved, and no other. If it was raining hail, and poison, I wouldn't care, because he was beside me, he was the one that I couldn't keep my mind off of. It seemed as if the grass swayed in uniform rhythm, dancing In the splendid moonlight as their spotlight, and the crickets as their music. When he tightened his grip, I held his hand harder as well. A smile flashed on my face. He pulled subtly on my arm, and I stopped looking at the#moonto look at him. He was smiling as well, it was brighter than the moon, it was brighter than the sun, it was brighter than any light. His light let my heart see. His arm crept up my arm and unto the back of my neck. It was a good feeling, it felt as if he really enjoyed my being here. He pulled me in. There was a drumroll from my heart. It wanted his embrace, and he was sure to give it. He leaned in, and as time came to slow down for me and this moment, my eyes closed as well. I could hear his soft breathing, I could feel his other hand creep up me. This was what the time presented itself for. In the moment the stars aligned as all the planets stared. As our lips met. As my heart dropped.

Chapter 2 Yeah, I started in chapter two, that's right, if you're looking for a chapter 1. Realize that I was screwing with you, and I'm trying to express that not all chapters of my #life start in the beginning. So anyways, let's start this... The alarm clock rang at that same annoying rate it usually does. That constant beat, that when you listen to it long enough, you'll eventually allow the rhythm to seduce you back to slumber. I didn't let it do that this time. This time, out of all its years that it's been by my bedside, it has finally done it's job. I hit the top, silencing it with a bang. It was nippy, and I was shirtless. I had sweats under the moderately thick blanket, which warned my slumber well. I outstretched my arms and stared outside my window, waiting for the sun to burn the skys and heavens so that the world can finally be at play. I looked down at my arms. Rows of white lines were placed aimlessly across my arm, it seemed as if there were too many lines to count. Why were they there? I'd sometimes ask myself on the morning of my day, and the first hours of my wake. I was always reminded of the emotional pain that seemed to haunt me day after day and hour after hour. What made me want to cut? Was it the overwhelming sadness and grief that carried my every step? Or was it the need to feel punishment for every step I take? Anyhow or anyways, it didn't matter. If I ever figured it out, there would still be more lines across my arms, and knowing why they were there wouldn't mean shit.