Can we just pass on into January and let this time float into the unknown?
Poetry- “Temporary Place”
One day, I will go home.
Poetry- Hiding in Sight
Interpreting sadness.
Bipolar Living- Speechless
Is this a meltdown of sorts? For the first time in my life, I am crying out to myself- not a doctor, not family, not even God. I am internally wailing at myself to wake up, to feel, to live. Yet, I have zero response in me.