Sometimes I can't talk about it.

Today's one of those days where I'm halfway glad that I don't own a gun.
It's also one of those days where I'm halfway pissed for not being able to get ahold of one.


Something inside of me has swollen to expand my ribs, my lungs feel smooshed.

I have cried about one-third of today.


Today's a day where I am making the decision to never eat again.

To never whisper again.

To never forget this feeling.



If I hadn't had so many things to do still, I'd kill myself.

Maybe.

I'm not dramatic. I'm hurt. By you, and you, and those, and that, and this, and whatever.