I don’t know what’s wrong with her. Its like she’s flaring at whoever stands in her way of happiness because the truth is there isn’t any happiness beyond what phases her now. I feel exhausted, my body is drained and I feel weak from doing absolutely nothing. Everything is loud. No silence rest between my ears and I because in my life, it doesn’t exist. To run I sit outside,  feeling faint breeze glimpse itself into uncovered skin. This is the best I get. A baby cries in the distance as if she seen my face and felt my emotions.

Life is too short.

I can’t talk to him because he’s upset. Sometimes I wish my life was as calm as the air, although pollution strikes it as it may, it still clears. I am afraid to step within my comfort because it’s not as comfortable as it should be. Nothing every will be.

Thirty three days until I release all that’s within me. I might just cry on his chest until my insides dry and I become whole again.


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