I don’t want to talk about my last post. I want to delete it, but I don’t feel I can for some reason. Something’s just holding me back.
Anyway. I’m fine.
Well I’m not, but evidently I am alive. I don’t know how.
I do. A friend rang me. If they hadn’t I don’t know what would have happened.
I do know. I’d have died.
But I didn’t. My scarred lungs are breathing. My broken heart is beating. My destroyed mind is thinking. I pass as a living human being.
Inside I an dead. I succeeded. I have no will, no emotion, no motivation, no yearning. I don’t want anything yet I want everything. I want to write and I want to delete my blog. I’m black and I’m white. I’m everything and nothing.
I’m broken within and healed without. Nobody knows. Nobody cares.
And it’ll stay that way.