existence.

"Sad stuff makes beautiful poetry, but it's not so pretty to live with." [-Merecat]
*For the Dear Diary Competition*
(I recommend anything beyond 'Tumbling Ash' for the rest is a mess of nonsense words that hold no character, no story and absently fill the page)

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99. Night Fingertips

 

Forgive me again for my lack of updates as I haul my aching body through days,

repeatedly ordering myself to slam my fingers against the keys of my laptop and spell out my troubled day

in spiralling words yet

something inside me pins my arms to my sides and I am left staring at the darkness and the

carcass of myself as my thoughts dance in my head and not on a screen.

 

Perhaps to make up for my never-ending laziness,

a happy

less depression-based entry will be of service.

 

Last night was probably one of the most fun nights I've ever experienced and although

the days leading up left my stomach angry with dread and doubt,

the experience of spending the night with a teaming mass of bodies and food left me with

nothing but memories and a smile on my face.

 

It pains me to know that the other's attending had enjoyed the same experience

several times before but

with a new group and new people some old faces I feel overjoyed to see again and exchange

dripping words of slight awkwardness and forgiveness.

 

These times remove my pain and remind me that perhaps it is the people I surround

myself with that truly worsens my emotions for the smile on my face

seems to be wider in a matter of mere seconds

and whether that be from the touch of his fingertips or the words flung through the air,

I smile at every minute.

 

-17th January 2016

 

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