darth-eagle

She remembers too well. Whatever that darkness was, it's gone now, and it hurts. What she sees on the other end of the forest, beyond the veil of fog in her eyes, is pure sunrise; glistening ice welcomes it gladly, from the spots where the snow is still untouched. When the sun is up, its beams feel like daggers in her already aching soul. This light proves it — how death is not the blissful oblivion she used to dream of in her youth, but a nightmare you can't ever wake up from. There can't be liberating tears to seal it shut; there will be no rays of morning to cut through the curtains, no warm embraces to reassure her that it's over, that