We choose our words carefully. What most to project and convey about the myriad of strings that make up the soul. How to summarize a thought to someone you've just met. Or, how to most genuinely introduce yourself to them...what do you give up? Or more accurately, what do you leave out?
I wrote those words ages ago. And I'm sure you or I could pick out all the holes in them now. I'm sure we could have fun with target practice. Hand the faded print-outs of my words from a tree and shoot through all the little spaces.
I believe I'm caught in a void, and falling, but there's nothing around to stop it. Such is the nature of a black hole. Absense.
I feel so weak, letting things hurt like this. My body, my brain, my heart. It all fucking hurts. It fucking hurts.