It happened. I couldn’t do it. It actually came to the point where I couldn’t face her. I REALLY need to get out of here.
The violent shaking is back, my fingers, toes and face are cold, and yet I’m sweating. I’m wearing a ridiculous amount of clothing, and yet, nothing appears to be keeping me warm. Please make it go away.
I want to make a difference. So many people around me are suffering in silence, and it isn’t my job to make them admit their weaknesses or faults, or even their strength for being able to keep their problems to themselves for so long, when it is so easy to whinge and whine about the shitty hand we’ve been dealt. But I feel like I should do something about it nonetheless. So I may or may not write to you. Or draw for you. Or sing you a song. Or even write you a song.
I myself, had a journal that I kept and I wrote in when I felt like the smallest doll in a babushka doll - it made me happy. I think now might be the right time to share some of my collection of these things I’ve written down with other people.
