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No puedo sentirme así

La vida es bonita así que a veces yo lo intento

No puedo mentirme así

Yo lo quiero todo pero no me lo merezco.

#S. S

Open to Mutuals

"What is that---i don't think i've seen that before."

#s. Open #s. S #v. ???#here have a small starter #he gave me nothing else so yeah

txssxract ( Liked ;; )

"C'mon, Tess! It's only snow!"

#txssxract #eyyyyy #s. S #s. CS #bc samulet likes snow so here #v. Personified

;; Useless ;; For barbarastreisandthisbitch, Drabble

It was an accident, the crash. a drunk driver plowed into his truck, crashing into the drivers side; where Marie had been seated. They say it's a miracle that Samulet got out of the wreckage with not even a scratch, but Marie had gotten worse, extremely worse. It's been only a few minutes in the surgery room, but to Samulet in the waiting room; it feels like centuries.

"It's all my fault..." he had thought, but in reality, it wasn't, it was neither of their fault, it was the other's fault, the drunk driver, the only casuality in the accident, but would the guy had survived, and left unscathed like Samulet, the man would've been dead in minutes should the Personification ever got his hands on him. Panic overtakes him, that sickening feeling starting in his gut spreading through out his body, soon followed by the almost overwhelming feeling of guilt, and anger. Anger that he let it happen, guilt that he wasn't fast enough, and panic that he would lose her; the one who understands his madness, and the things he's seen in his nightmares. Tears are rolling down his cheeks; silent. Hands are clasped together, knuckles white, nails leaving small white crescent moons on his skin, left foot tapping nervously against the linoleum, one hand shakily raising to comb the camp blonde hair back, his whole body trembling. his scared, frightened, A F R A I D of losing her, his love, his everything. He stands, and starts to pace, seconds turning into minutes turning into hours with how long she's been in that room. He didn't know how bad she was hurt, or if she was even alive, but he prays, prays to the Maker who gave him a new mission, to find someone who loves him unconditionally, wholly. He's found her, and he'd be damned that she'll be gone before he can say how much he loves her. Shaky hands raise to press his palms against his eyes, blue eyes having been flicking to yellow, white then back again. Something inside of him is aching, and breaking, his chest is tightening, and it's getting hard to breath, a Panic Attack, he knew he'd get one, but Maker this one is bad. he brings him to the floor, sitting back down in his previous seat, head constantly turning and shaking, breath fast, hyperventilating, the panic having been too much, ultimately causing this. I can't do anything, please, i did nothing wrong, please, keep her safe Was the only thing he could muster, but he didn't even speak those words, only thought them, prayed them to anyone, any-angel willing to listen. He needs her to stay alive, needs her to be safe, needs her to be with him, and safe.