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Feb 2016
There are days when I remember this incident
the incident that made me stop trusting my own instinct
and start finding a way to make sure I'm happy.
This incident,
a letter
with the sheer mask of a love letter was
really actually a hate letter not directed towards me
but to the sender,
I find that every time I remember the incident
I remember the sheer terror and silent screams that
protruded my body,
I remember the buckets of tears I cried that night,
and I remember the space and time,
I remember how happy I was right before I opened that letter
and how it faded all too quickly.

I can't handle myself now a days but
this incident finds me at these moments and grasps me,
I remember it, always returning to tears and
I come to the conclusion that I don't share a lot about myself
and I remembered just today thinking
" I talk about myself a lot don't I?"
Well I don't, not really.
No one really knows how I felt in that moment except God himself,
not even now, the moment is too shrill to describe,
because it absolutely broke me.
im not sure what to feel with this piece tbh. solice? maybe...
Gillian Drake
Written by
Gillian Drake
542
   Cecil Miller and ---
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