Every day I die a little more...
I've heard that line in a movie or two, but I'd always thought of it as dramatic tripe... I don't, anymore. I can honestly say that, for the past month, I've been dying a little more with each rising of the sun. The heartache eats away at me from the inside, gnawing my heartstrings and making me begin to feel physically ill... and no matter how much I try to joke, or how I try to play it off, I just can't seem to let it go. The feelings are too fresh, the wounds too new, and the things around me merely rub sand in them, torturing me more and more...
Report a Policy Violation
the news article as well as check out the individual pieces. We understand that each day you may not be able to check out each and every one of the pieces, everyone has their own things going on. We just ask that you make an attempt to help support the growing Literature community.
Follow us on Twitter
Become a fan on Facebook
Comments
--
I got tired of trying to think of something clever to put in here, so all you get is this sentence.
--
"Cause you can't just throw away a painting just because one part is bad. You just wait till it dries and paint over it."
___________
"I really think everyone should have watercolors, magnetic poetry and a harmonica."
___________
*Self-InjuryClub
Previous PageNext Page