ObsidianButterfly

Guilty Pleasures
2003-01-08 16:21:50 (UTC)

The Heart of It All

Between all of them.

The words said.

The words not said.

The silence.

I think my spirit is broken.

I'm not sure how to fix it.

I miss what I've lost... I miss 'him' and it's been almost
two months since 'his' death.

I miss my health. I miss the feeling of normalcy. Then
again, what in hell is normal? Three years of pain induced
memories that torment me in my sleep and haunt me when I'm
awake? Black belts scare me now. I have one. I wear it.
But I have a phobia of black leather belts now. Go figure.

I miss my sanity. Sometimes.

I miss my memories. A lot of my past is gone; erased like
a hard drive it seems. Something is missing and even if I
wanted it back, I haven't the faintest idea in which file
to begin the search.

I miss the life I should have had if only I'd been smart
enough to see through the lies so many years ago.

Yeah... my spirit is broken. Not only that... my heart is
broken... my mind is in shambles... and the blue prints to
all three have been erased like most of my memory and
childhood.




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