I'm fine. Happy even. I do not cry for death any longer. But I don't want to be here. Not numb, But feelings weak. Like a smile plastered zombie running. I felt so alive back then. So low, But I got high. Emotional pendulum swinging. Never stopping for a break. Was it depression? Or was I just confused? Was I just feeling? All I know is I don't, and never will like the way I feel. Even with pills.
see? This is why – To take a slow deep breath is beauty alight she’s on the raw edge of subtext questioning and under the surface pages wait to be written they radiate through her drape over, covering engulfing her frame but – she feels relief with a slow deep breath her whitened knuckles release control and she is breathing the pages are there they wait to be filled but not by her
From the shade of leafs, it endeavours up the building, and crawls in through a screen, where it gets caught in a spiders web, where its twitching turns to screaming, as it is slowly eaten.