would it be melodramatic to state the truth, if the truth sounds fictional?

almost every single thing i encounter (even writing this now) causes my thoughts to pause and fly backward through time to some memory. to fly back from there to rest upon a different branch of events that did not occur (but perhaps should have). my heart sinks and my mind races and trudges at the same time. i get anxious, nervous, even panicky. i get nauseous and unsettled, and i lose a firm grasp on my surroundings. and most of all i feel like the wound is being slowly torn open so that it never actually heals.

it is probably best if i keep this all to myself. pain, much like ebola is best left unspread i think.

and as odd of a juxtaposition as it is, a new h#umor exists. have at it.



< << < : : >> > >
number 9.. .   .? andy andy andy, get your adverbs here

and the moon won't do if it's just a snapshot