perception.

his skin is the color of the sky at sunset. he is broken into pieces. glass. it shines and reflects light with a gleaming hue of hopelessness. his pieces fit together in the most chaotic of fashions. it is beautiful. he is love. burning out from the core with a soft light. the harsh texture of his defense. skin.

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journal 6.

looking back on it, it is disappointing to realize how sad I have always been. can someone please help me? just something, anything, please one thing that will make me smile. even if it’s just a little bit. a teeny weeny bit? please, anyone. hello? oh fuck it you’re crazy you’re just talking to yourself anyway.

(please understand that these really are journal entries. these are things I write to myself personally. they usually shouldn’t be shared but I like when people understand people. it helps us understand ourselves. sharing our personal thoughts are one way of doing that. understanding.)

thick air.

you heard me

say it

it rang loud

through the halls

of my house

you heard me

it was nothing

but a whisper

yet it sounded

like a

scream

you heard me

it pierced through

your silence

breaking the

stillness in our

quiet room

you heard me

in the dark

blackness of night

that filled

the air with

a fog

you heard me

and we knew

the thick air

held my words

and they

remained

you heard me

and you knew

it was how I felt

we stayed there

and slept.