It's Telling...

"These torpid vapors surround me. I... they make me weak; my very soul turns in agony in the depths of my breast."
The two exchanged glances, and then turned back to the young man with alacrity.
"What can we do," the girl asked.
"What can we do," the boy gestured.

---

Every now and then, I'm sure you've experienced it, the truth of what your life was supposed to be stands in front of you. Its radiant purity like raw gold. It is unique, rough, natural, and unmistakable; and you know it deep within the very depths of your bowels, whether you acknowledge it by name, or consider it faintly in your sleep.

It sings sweetly in your ear, and coaxes your sore muscles; it makes you to laugh and makes you to cry, and caries you to and from your Dreams. It is a pain more desirable than Joy, and more hated than Love. It is what nightmares are made of, and what miracles aspire to be.

The history of the Doppelganger can be found within it, and without, and it takes and gives breath as easily as the wind bends a lily in the field.

There is a story in my life that was never completed. There is a story in my life that was never began, and I feel it in my soul when it walks by, as though the echoes of another world harmonize within me, and the reverberations shake and torture my very shell.