It’s not news here that I love and admire ( am desperately jealous of) Tempest’s writing style and her blog altogether but sometimes she still throws me with something that feels plucked from my own inner psyche. If my psyche had a bad ass writing style with a poetic edge. Check out Tempest’s blog. Subscribe to her if you haven’t already. You won’t be disappointed.
There are clouds everywhere. Encircling my body. But not the soft, fluffy kind that bring comfort. The oozy kind that drip despair.
I just want to curl up with these clouds and let them take over, but Something inside tells me not to. I want to punch that damn Something in the face.
Shit. Is this really happening?
The Something throws some pills at me and I take them, must take them, to maybe make the clouds go away. Do I really want the clouds to go away? Their dampness provides some level of comfort — they know that no one will expect anything from me if they stay.
I try to wrap myself up in them, to accept what is happened, but the Something makes me fight back. The last bit of hope that maybe I won’t fall too hard this time. The Something is stronger this time than…
View original post 184 more words