Day 33

I remember you mentioning once the reason you hadn't killed yourself

I thought that reason was odd at the time

But over the years like ivy falling, wrapping itself down a pillar

your answer was enough

though it never fueled comfort that answer never lied the way other truths would

So after a time I took it into myself this burnt ember of truth

that each day is tough that it is frustrating

you told me

“Holding that knife I felt like an imposter – not me id rather be a sad me than a killer”

Bleh, got off the writing horse again. Stupid crazy life

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