My hands are numb with cold as I sit. Fingers punch into the keys as my mind dictates.
To Whoever Finds This:
By the time you find this, I'll be gone.
I stop. The beginning sounds so...final. Not to say that it's not the last, it is, but it's not memorable. I need, no, have, to write something memorable. Better to go out with a BANG! than with a whimper.
I hit the backspace key, erasing everything and begin again.
To Who Ever has the Pleasure of Finding Me:
Congratulations! You have just won the grand prize: cleaning me (or what's left of me)up. Now don't you feel special?
No. That doesn't sound right. I jab a key and erase. Words that have been built up inside of me, bubble to the surface. They gnaw at my insides with howls, screams, and snarls; they needed to come out. The screams and snarls don't bother me as much anymore.
It's the howls.
The howls can claw and tear away my insides; they peel away at memories, warp them into nightmares until I can bear them, no longer.
Words are at the tip of my tongue, but they rot away whenever they try to surpass my lips. Silence is far from golden.
It takes me an hour to reclaim myself. I force myself down into my (un)easy chair and stare at blank paper. Blank, like my mind as I wait for something to happen; what, I don't know.














Comments
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I believe in Jesus Christ as my Savior.
If an atheist is seeing the anger flowing from the pages and is disturbed by it, you're probably doing it wrong.
Hopefully I'll have the final draft done by this weekend.
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"Everything is conditional. You just can't always anticipate the conditions."
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I believe in Jesus Christ as my Savior.
If an atheist is seeing the anger flowing from the pages and is disturbed by it, you're probably doing it wrong.
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