dear diary
this is my fifty-fourth week in high school and i pray to die faster.
in the morning, dad brought me a poetry book.
and then i realized that i'm going to miss books the most.
they were my only escape from pain.
but, i know, i can't escape from death.
not anymore, not... ever.
dad: what kind of heart do you have?
me: bookish heart, i tend to prefer books to people
dad: and that is bad?
me: no but i can't read anymore
dad: so you chose the people?
me: no i chose death
YOU ARE READING
Fallen Girl
Short StoryMary's dead. But she's still breathing. That's the problem. TRIGGER WARNING: DEADLY DISEASE, HARD TOPICS LIKE DEATH AND HEARTBREAK!!!
