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Post by flora westerveldt on Feb 23, 2011 0:39:33 GMT -7
i can feel it all starting to give way. i can hear the creak of buckling rafters and the whine of moaning floorboards as termites eat away at this foundation whose sturdiness i should have known would not last.
- f.
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Post by flora westerveldt on Feb 23, 2011 0:42:24 GMT -7
people can warn and caution and use all the ‘read more’ jumps in the world but it doesn’t matter because i am triggered by everything from the itch of my sleeve against my wrist to the sound of laughter outside my bedroom window to the jump of my own uncomfortable pulse inside these narrow veins.
- f.
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Post by flora westerveldt on Feb 24, 2011 1:02:52 GMT -7
i’m trying to figure out if going from being cripplingly sad most of the time to dizzingly scared all of the time is a step backwards or an improvement.
- f.
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Post by flora westerveldt on Feb 24, 2011 15:47:39 GMT -7
in the same way that an ache will permeate the space where a freshly-amputated limb once was, i feel sadness when there is no reason to. sadness attached to nothing. drifting beneath the doors and through the cracks in the windowpanes, a cool draft that chills straight to the bone, and there is little more to me than that.
- f.
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