it is 8:09p.m. and i have not done anything productive today. it is 8:09p.m. and i don’t want to face reality, because if i turn a blind eye, maybe i can magic myself all right. and it is 8:09p.m. and i have not done anything productive today other than cry. because if i could, i swear i would just run out to the top of the driveway in the pouring rain and scream at the sky. and it is 8:09 p.m. and i have spent the entire day denying i am even alive. and denying i am falling apart. and denying that winter has never felt this heavy, or this dark… and i still can’t breathe when i walk through a hallway. and i still can’t say that i believe with all my heart that i deserve to take up space. and where did you go? and when will you be back? and will you ever come back? and weren’t you supposed to be the one that saved me? the one that duct-taped all the broken pieces together until it looked something like happy? and tell me you won’t leave me…. and tell me it’s going to be okay. and tell me that you’re proud of me, or that you love me… and tell me i won’t always have to beg for affection even though most of the time it seems that way… and tell me you won’t forget about me… because it’s just hard to believe that today.
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