The Boy's Gone.

It's Thursday morning and he makes plans. I wake up, brush my teeth and take a look at myself in the mirror. I miss the days in which I used to write and be inspired. I look at people and I just see consumption.

How could I possibly redeem myself? Should I? Courage can also blind us.
I am happy I made it this far, Jason. For someone who has always fought against the odds and has swum against the tides, I made it very far. It hurts so much to do so much with so little. I don’t understand why.

That piece was just a confused draft. My pieces aren't good enough. I want to come back to who I was. To that little girl with pure heart.

But all I have is a hurt soul. Look at my hands, they bleed.

Pardon my grammar, Mr. No-One. English is not my first language. Love is and I am screwed.

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