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Tuesday Pixie Oct 2014
Tired.
Ill.
Stuck.
All is meaningless.
All is fuzzed.

I just want those arms
Clasped around me tight.
That's all.
To dissolve into his blackness.

Nothing is clear cut.
I know this.
And nothing will take away the hurt.
That's something inside me.
Something I must feel
And possibly cure
With love and care and time.

Something might take away this sickness.
Maybe.
If there's a reason.
More than just psychological - please let it be physical.
I don't know how to erase psychological pain.

I don't want to freak out.
I don't want to ruin things.
Friendship, music, this comfort I have found.
Please let this be okay.
Please let this work.
Let me find an assertion
Of my own
Even in tiredness
And let him listen
And honor that.

I don't want to be alone.

I don't want to lose this.

— The End —