Do I end up happy?
The sky is overrun by shadows, which flit past my eyes, taunting, laughing, teasing; the ghosts of a past in ruins. I cannot help but feel that I follow the road to perdition, yet, I know that it cannot be true. Transparent though those ghosts are, they plunge their hands in me and attempt to wrench out my heart, for they know what haunts it most; they know what hurts it most.
Images flicker on screens, whole pictures painted with tiny pinpoints of colour, blended together to be something; a portrait, a scene, a message. Some images have such a hold that I cannot move away, and I watch, and my stomach clenches, flutters, trips over itself; and then, I remember that it's just an image from a scripted life. The magic is lost, the feeling fades, the image moves on. Bone crushing sadness takes me in its embrace, pulling me closer, holding me tighter, and whispering promises in my ear; promises, threats, they're all the same thing.
So I need to know. Does the loneliness ever go away?