Well, I did kill myself. I killed the girl I used to be; she's gone. The things she used to put up with, I can't. The taunts and attacks she felt she deserved, now I know she deserves so much better. The things that used to bring her happiness, now she knows they were crutches. I will always walk cautiously in these new shoes, but I can't go back to that girl. As scary as it is to know that I died, I have now been reborn. The muscle memory is still there from my previous life, but as I learn to walk anew in these big, shiny shoes—though I may trip a few times—I know that I can't go back. I can't go back out of fear, to that small life. Those dark, enclosing walls of my mind. It's an illusion that I thought was real for 37 years. The chains of my mind continue to break apart like so much dust in the windy night. They are gone forever, gone with that girl that used to be me. I'm still not sure about this new person I've become. I'm still getting used to her. Little does she know how much more gentle I will be with her compared to the old girl who I killed. Even though she had to die, her sacrifice will not be in vain. Because of her death, now I can truly live. It's all I've ever wanted from this life: to be inside the painting, instead of gazing at it longingly from afar.
I cling to you like the motes of desert dust cling to heaven's tears.
Saturday, March 30, 2019
Saturday, March 23, 2019
MONEY! MONEY!
People wonder why I'm so cranky all the time. If you had night terrors every single night for the last 37 years, you'd be cranky too, bitch.
Thursday, March 21, 2019
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