smoke strikes midnight | kaplan { blitz }

The smoke creates a haze that fills the empty void of your room. Your eyes burn from the billowing wisps that emit from the end of the lit cigarette, but you don't care. You lay on the satin sheets, still with a blank expression upon your face. Petty thoughts paw their way into your mind, basking in attention that it forces you to give. Thinking is a favorite pastime of yours, it helps you collect your thoughts, no matter how tedious people think it is.

You wonder how you ended up with this cruel fate. The Yov-Maoi's hold a cursed name, one with no love and corpse as synonym. But that's why you float on clouds with a fluffy crown atop your head. That's why your the midnight sky painted with galaxy hues. That's why you want to feel the love mother showed you when you looked at dresses. That's why you don't care anymore. Life is hard to live when your name is synonymous with dead.

You stare at the ceiling, it's white paint looking right back at you. Phantom shadows dance their way across it, and for the first time in a long time a smile cracks your lips. But as quickly as it came, it fades away with the sounds of your door being opened.