As of this moment, I feel stone cold.
For the warmth of others melted away and I'm left all alone.
And maybe I did this to myself.
I have, however, been a, as they say, cunt, and 2013-15 me was way better than I.
She was very happy and very good at pretending to be happy.
Yet now, she's cracking and breaking.
And alone.
And she doesn't know what she had done to get to this point.
Maybe she disappear off of the Earth, she says, and read all day and let those assholes notice they lost something amazing.
Or she could stay, and lay in loneliness for months until she couldn't take it anymore and slit the porcelain knife across her throat.
And ever since the death or herself, she's just been lonelier and lonelier.
How unfortunate for her.
4/29/16
