"When we can no longer dream, we die" -Emma Goldman

Saturday, July 3, 2010

it's as if nothing will ever be good
like nothing will be happy again
like i'm not the best i can be
like i'm not good enough
like everything is cold and dark and black
and the light bits get smaller and smaller
and then the black punches me in the stomach
and i just curl up and cry
and nothing is okay
and it's all bad
the threads are loose
the scissors are broken
the books have no words
the lights dont turn on
and i'm in the middle of it all

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