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penelopie wilson

penelopie...

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translations

i can’t make myself get up today. i just can’t. today, it’s officially too much. the sadness, the pain…i can’t get out of bed. i don’t want to move. i don’t really want to be awake. in fact, after i write this, i’m rolling over and closing my eyes again. i don’t want to be awake any longer. i just needed to purge some pain first.

i keep hoping that i will wake up and it will have been a bad dream. it wasn’t a dream. the harsh truth floods in with the sunlight, blinding me. so, i close my eyes again.

i’m broken.

i forced myself to be productive yesterday. to be “normal” and hide everything deep inside. it was too much. too hard. it has taken its toll. today i want to sleep and never wake up.

i find myself having panic attacks when thoughts of never again seeing him, hearing him, hearing from him enter my mind. i can’t take it. i can’t take the thought of a life without him in any way.

it breaks me.

and i just want to sleep. sleep until my life is over. sleep until it’s finished.

i’m sure he is fine. not sad at all. not missing me. the thought of never again seeing me, hearing me, hearing from me…is probably no thought at all. he probably hasn’t thought about me once. because i’m nothing.

he broke me to fix himself.

like taking parts from a car at a scrapyard. worthless junk cars. just used for parts. take what you want from them to use on a car you deem to have value.

today i will rot away in my junkyard…my bed…because i can’t make myself get up. he took a part that was necessary for this old junk scrap car to function. my heart.

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