Waking up to find that once again, it wasn’t really the end. And he continues to fall. But maybe there is no end; it’s just a vicious, never ending, unforgiving circle. There were no emotions left anymore; Luhan didn’t feel anger or sadness, or even hatred. There was only dull numbness, just like the pain in his hand. Reaching over, he pulls the remaining glass out of his hand with shaking fingers, only to reopen the wound and leave the blood to once again surface. And so the circle continues. This isn’t the end anymore; this is the beginning. Just a new start, a new stage, of brokenness and unfinished feelings. There is no healing, no saving. No one can overcome this, so how are we supposed to go on? How do we go on living with our ends, already frayed, being ripped open over and over again by evil hands? We must try to protect ourselves from them, but only then they will become ourselves. Luhan was his own poisonous drug; eating himself away from the inside, like rotten fruit. Some people are as beautiful as angels on the outside, but pull back the first layer and it reveals the twisted and corrupt center.

Luhan had learnt that with every sip of alcohol his subconscious would slip down further, but it only waited for him to catch up and join him, once

he is sober again.

He watched the blood in his hand slowly resurface and feather out over his hand. He was done with waiting for the pain to subside, because it will forever be apart of him. Luhan used to think that death and life were completely different things, but now he realised the came hand in hand, like him and the pain inside. Accepting that the pain was there would make him better, he thought, not completely but maybe then he could ignore his own conscious.