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. 

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