The ataraxis in this insignificant life is finally disclosed; she’d corrupted the core that was constantly rebuilding itself with any stimuli that wanted to leak it. Her voice makes me tremble and shiver in glee whenever I hear it; it’s that sound, that tone and pace that lifts me up when falling into a down whirl of rubbish.
It sort of feels like burning when her fingertips slide into my thighs, like I want to be incinerated and never get back to life, because somehow I found happiness in this mess. It just feels like the right thing, the right moment, the right person to be with, no matter how hard it can be. For the very first time in my meaningless life I think I reached what I call happiness.