It fits me perfectly, this darkness;
Fills me inside and out and never slips out of place.
One day I might lose my mind and finally feel beautiful,
But I know that a red soiled reality awaits me when I descend from that fool’s flight.
To me, falling down always feels better than standing up
But I only remember being strong;
Pretending that the weight of living isn’t crushing me
And I’m not dangling from death’s grip in hidden sight.
From under my cover cloth of darkness,
I view life in neither black nor white;
But the darkest gray obscured by salty tears
And it’s getting easier to let go with all my might.
Tired. Numb. I almost didn’t post anything today. That’s how uninterested I am. I’m not sure how exactly I’m feeling right now but I know that the fog is lifting. I’m getting there. Slowly but surely.
I named my diary Ruth by the way. Because, just like the person, it’s helping me out of a very dark place and I know I can tell it (her?) anything.
I can’t type much anyways so errrrr, enjoy.
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