Too Old To Lie (On Hold)

Too Old To Lie (On Hold)

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WpMetadataNoticeÚltima publicación sáb, abr 28, 2018
I'm Dakota Cathal, he was Augustine Dalton. I'm alive, he's not. Now here on the earth, where my best friend no longer breathes, I think a lot. Slowly, most times. Because he left me a troubling note. I swear, he must think me a mad man to believe what it says. But, unfortunately, I can't help but start to when a particular piece of evidence follows me a little too closely. . . . This is temporarily, I repeat TEMPORARILY, on hold until I get my creative crap together. Organizing my brain is a huge feat. This story will contain no sexual content and little swearing. It will, however, have topics regarding mental health. If you are uncomfortable with that, I don't exactly recommend this.
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"I don't have terrible problems, and I know my life isn't bad like other people's", I added. "But it's as if I'm half and half", I shrugged. "Half satisfied, half disappointed, half happy, half sad". "I know it's silly though", I corrected myself while sitting up and shaking my head. "I know I don't have the right to say I feel-". "You don't have to be miserable to have depression", Matthew cut in while looking into the horizon. "You don't have to be poor, or unloved, or even bullied to feel like you're losing all hope", he added. Looking right ahead, he placed his hand on the water and threw some ahead, creating a 'splash' sound that interrupted our quietness. "You don't need water to feel like you're drowning", he pointed while looking at me with an intense look, as if begging me to understand and take my words back. "Never apologize for your feelings", he continued while moving a bit closer to me. "They are there for a reason".

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