Jul 2018
You demanded me to rip a bandaid off an open wound while it was still bleeding. Blood soaked and dried, stuck to my body, staining my curtains, clothes, pillows. Not even being able to lay my head down without being reminded of blood spilt without a shield to save myself from the pestilence the world holds. Rotten, stiff air infecting us all slowly.
Written while reflecting about someone telling me to "rip the bandaid off" to move on from loving them although, months after, Im still not healed.
