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signed, someone who stopped living a week ago

dear you know who you are, it’s not Tuesday without you. my Thursdays have always been fucked but at least i knew some how you’d be back here. i don’t watch comedy news or surf the web the same. i havent felt like i lost something in a long time. even when that bad man took my life away. i was still me. but you, i lost you. like you lose a sea shell in the waves. or your virginity to someone who gave  you too much vodka. i am still waiting for you to come back. i will die here wont i? in a heap of bones and sadness dust and dry flesh. you could light me on fire, i’d go up like drift wood. i am not ok. i don’t know if i want to be either, because being ok means that you’re really gone and im just half here now. all i can see is the violence of men, their egos, the harsh vibrations, even the kind ones are predatory. i miss you. and i hate to say this but im scared. im scared of them. i want to cut myself into digestible pieces and feed them to alligators. living is seriously overrated.  work is my tomb and im sealed with all of these cubicle possessions doing something i care nothing about. what is the point what are we doing do you even care. i thought this would be easy. i guess that was my first mistake.

signed, someone who stopped living a week ago.


About deadendemily

Emily lives in Austin, TX. She has a minor in chaos and a major in spray paint. She likes Vincent Price and ABBA. She enjoys being covered in fake blood and writing horror stories. Most of the time she just hopes that her cat is not plotting to murder her, her cat being a minion of Satan and all. They would never suspect the cat.

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