Burdened bones
I write this with a heavy heart, maybe not as heavy as it used to be, still heavy in so many unfathomable ways. I see purpose in writing this, at least I guess I do. I am not quite sure. Neither am I confused. In truth I am perfectly in touch will all of my emotions, every single one. This is a pat in the back in a nonchalant sorta way. Never did realize how deep a five minute thought process would be, the depth of grief, the insanity behind the concept of reliability on oneself and others. The morality behind the sacred intimacy, the abandoning, the slut awakening, the hardening of a cotton candy heart and the tiredness of my soul. I feel like exhaustion would suit the theme more. So, my exhausted soul. In all honesty, this whole feature is going to be a whole rant. More like speaking everything into existence--NO, writing everything into existence whilst constantly constantly talking to myself about a mirage of emotions, that is real. Real in so many unspoken ways. Sigh. I guess...