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Apr 2014
I spend a lot of my time trying to arrange pretty words into pretty sentences to explain how I feel about you.
But only because my feelings are not very pretty and need to be disguised
Because you cannot simply tell someone  that you would be dead without them.
It makes people uncomfortable.
So instead I'll tell you about how you make my tipsy, intoxicated-till-numb soul feel a little but more safe and at home.
And that my scarred body, made in the image of my scarred heart, may be a bit too cut up to bare any resemblance anymore.
And that I no longer think of time as "moments until I die", but rather "moments until I see you again" or "moments until 'I do.'"
And while I still have my days where not a single thing could ever even hope to "fix" me
Every other day, you do without any resistance.

Days like these, I don’t even know what’s real and what isn’t.
Days like these, I don’t know if it’s all in my head or if life is really like this.
Days like these, I drive myself insane trying to figure out the truth to questions that haven’t even been answered.
Days like these, I scratch myself raw and ****** until things feel safe.
Days like these, I don’t want to be spoken to, or even looked at.
Days like these, I forget how to do normal human things like writing and eating.
Days like these, all I’m really capable of is loving you.

Days like these, I need you.
Days like these, you’re always there.
Lucy Marie
Written by
Lucy Marie  Michigan
(Michigan)   
1.1k
     --- and Kerrigan Reyes
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