. . .
I Emptied my wall the other night. My child couldn't believe the colors were gone, it frightened her. Everyone who saw the wall were shocked and wondered if I was okay. Truthfully. It was time. I got tired of looking at something that was no longer my own. I need to fix it to my inner self and some mask I have planted upon my eyes. They have me all backwards and it's not my fault that it's the only thing they can see or sense from me. I can't see myself longer than a second before I crash and ignite into a dark pit of distinguished fire. You don't know what it's like to awaken from what I feel. You may understand to an extent, but nothing more. I can't sleep, so I become fidgety or worse, I can't breathe I get dizzy, I see things, my head breaks open, so much happens and I can't control it. I can't slow down and I can't find a relaxing regimen. -S-i-g-h- It's time I put up the real me. The me that has arrived today.
2019-12-03 07:16:12
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А море сліз вже висохло давно. Давно забуті фото й переписки. Я живу неначе у кіно, І це кіно трагедія, не більше.
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وردةٌ قبِيحة
و مَا الّذي يجعلُ مصطلحُ الوردة قبِيحة؟ -مَا الّذي تنتظرهُ من وردةٍ واجهت ريَاح عاتية ؛ وتُربة قَاحلة و بتلَاتٍ منهَا قَد ترَاخت أرضًا ، مَا الّذي ستصبحهُ برأيك؟
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