Saturday, March 17, 2012

It feels like I stabbed myself with a serrated knife. The handle drips in blood. And the process of pulling it out hurts even more; with each tug, another cut, another scar. But that's the way to get it out, to bear the unbearable pain. I have to get this out of me if I am to move on but I'm too cowardly to do it, I lack the guts to face my own fears and monsters. So I leave it half protruding out of my body, hidden beneath the ordinariness of my clothes.

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