MINUSCULE MEMOIRS

teen

three| bound

there are very few things in life that i call my own. my peace, my happiness, my love, my soul, and my body, where all these reside. I never chose it,  my soul did

it found a 'home' inside this assemblage of flesh and bones and me? i found a constant in this ever-changing world and like every house, it has its dark corners and rough edges where the soul find solace on lonely nights and gets scars in her drunken self

drunk on high expectations

and when all this becomes overwhelming, the soul struggles to stay inside, wanting to set free. free from everything but the strings of relationships it will leave behind tugs at its human heart, persuading it to stay, maybe a little longer

because the soul might be bound but the mind isn't

runahem