or when it's impossible not to cry and shatter.
words too sharp have pierced my skin from the moment i left my room this morning. my throat has constricted with every verbal assault on me, forcing the beginning of tears at my eyes.
i hate myself and i hate him and him and i hate breathing and i hate leaving the house because everything makes my blood boil.
i keep getting stuck in this thought spiral. i'm constantly wondering if the feeling in the pit of my stomach is nostalgia or fury. i can't tell the difference anymore.
ihateihateihateihateidontknowwhattohate.
YOU ARE READING
Smart Girl
Non-Fictionthoughts from the smart girl. //the journal of wren// //highest rank #2 in non fiction// //all names of real people interacted with here are altered from their original versions for privacy's sake//
