Tag: dread
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never looking at him again
It began with conversations at school. I had a few friends, and I began to speak blasé about certain truths. We were all burdened. And though likely unhealthy, we were all desperate for understanding. Trauma, and weighted stories were shared, like reflections on the weather. I spoke of my mother.…
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My final day of freedom, until death.
It had been two years. I’m uncertain that they noticed I was gone. Barely occupying the space in all those years, a whisper. I’m sure my mom did but it was always fleeting. My father and I never spoke even under the same roof, so why would he? I’m sure…
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Adrift.
Solitude is an intriguing and horrifying concept. The winter cold offers me little enjoyment, but I never regret how I spend my time during this season. I mean regret over time “wasted” is a constant interloper of mine, but it’s quieter in these months. Things have been quieter. No shame…
