I'm here this morning because this is what I do every year. I wait just long enough until it's all forgotten by everyone else to post the truth. The truth that only the archives can hold when there is little to no chance of anyone returning to read it.
This is my before of what came after. Before I was broken, before I lost my last shred of innocence. She is the me I remember, but she is not the me I know. Even after all these years I cry for her and try to offer comfort.
But there is no comfort in silence, and I disrespect her memory by saying nothing.
3 comments:
"Once there was ..."
Waht?
What is this? Should I be concerned? Are you making a statement that you fell a little fractured and out of sorts and is it serious?
I'm here this morning because this is what I do every year. I wait just long enough until it's all forgotten by everyone else to post the truth. The truth that only the archives can hold when there is little to no chance of anyone returning to read it.
This is my before of what came after. Before I was broken, before I lost my last shred of innocence. She is the me I remember, but she is not the me I know. Even after all these years I cry for her and try to offer comfort.
But there is no comfort in silence, and I disrespect her memory by saying nothing.
Post a Comment