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her reality is defined by cold thin sheets, sunrises that come twice a week, the longing sadness in her chest that has tears lingering just beneath the surface of glass fragility, words overflowing at the edges and ripping apart all the seams. sometimes she breaks. other times not. some days she cannot get out of bed. some days she does not get up at all. most days are an effort at best, always in a rush to do the same things in the same hours that she's done days and weeks and months before. always trying to get some new feeling out of the same places. and she doesn't think she's depressed, no. just hollow. monochrome. perhaps a little blue.
(m.b)
the gif has no correlation really but I'm on a Leo high and I found it going through we heart it and so here it is
