My insides boil with expression, truly pushing outwards, itching to break free, so much. Messages to others, messages to say, that I do not. Because they belong to the shadow. Because they do not "belong".
Well, I am here to express them.
Fucking message.
acceptance.
This is my message and this is my idea and I will do whatever the fucking hell I choose to. Their eventual reflection on the world may come. Now, this is it.
Pulll them out.
Let them go.
Fuck
Typing does not express the emotions that want to be expressed. rrrrrrrrrrrrggggggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
arrr. geeee.. eeeeiiitchhhh. how scary.
anger, resentment, blockage. how do you come?
ah, loneliness triggers it. Loneliness. I do feel lonely. It is the day after Christmas, a time of social gatherings, and people tend to their loved ones, they gather to feel loved and to celebrate their being together. together.
no one reaches out to me. no one asks me to gather. I send out messages to people I care about, their replies are scant. People who care about me send me messages from far-off places, their words hollow and
what I miss is her hug.
I had found her I had found her I had FUCKING FOUND HER. "I have a boyfriend".
No, I don't care about that. The connection is real. What I do care about is
that my skin-starved body feels... misses her.
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