All the stitches of what I
had (and have) made myself have physically been stripped.
And not without pride.
I feel I've made a good strong effort is dropping off my load..... All I can do. I am with someone that doesn't require what he needed for love. Yet I still feel like I am her. That stupid, stupid, girl. Unrelated to matter and time, hoping some 'God' may take her problems and solve them (if only I pray harder, have more faith) Believing in lies aiding some good, but fostering more bad. Sew this on for size: I DO NOT BELIEVE IN ANYTHING THAT CAN'T BE PROVEN BY SCIENCE.
I have all my natural hair color back.
I don't cry in the shower.
I don't cry on my runs out of terror to get out, off, away.
I still cry.
I still run.
Life is still livable.
Life is still lived.
Yet some nights (alone) are like these. A God Damn Fucking Nightmare.
Best Friends die. Husband fuck goats and fiddle kiddies, or in the least watch these. Thin is not thin, but a morbid obesity piled on you by a fat bitch that is laughing as you wait for her to say 'when'
8 miles(Will she say when?)
136.0(Now?)
126.0(WHEN YET?)
124.0(Surely now you fat fuck.)
118....
12 miles, 13, run bitch run!
But she's as fat as ever and still weighing you down.
Pile it on, pile it up.
After all the west was not won over night.
One Buffalo at a time.
One 'Ingine'.
I'm ashamed to say this is how I feel some nights. I feel stuck on the negative, stuck thinking about each bite full from the day past.
I hate my Monday.
