Lost sight of a picture never taken

Lost art of keeping a secret
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Ezoic
2019-09-22 14:20:26 (UTC)

Swimming through the ashes of another life

Days tick by.

Smiles on faces that I can’t touch, whispers from voices I can’t hear and tears on faces I can’t help.

Writing like I have reads like life’s a giant shit pile. It’s not. This is just a way of dumping the darker moments so they don’t overwhelm me. It makes me sound like I’m bitching like a child, but it’s the ability to dump that’s letting me carry on at the moment.

The lights can’t be on all the time right? Even I can’t laugh and smile all the time, although dumping lets me keep it pinned when I’m not behind closed doors.

Sometime I’ll get my mask back on straight and I can forget this slip ever happened and go back to keeping the real me to myself where I belong.

In the meantime I’ll keep writing shit here that makes no sense to anyone.


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