An outsider. A damaged soul. A suicide case. Whatever you want to call it there were never a lot of options left open for me. The harder I tried at a fate like all the rest the more I fell. I failed. I was being pushed by hands I couldn’t see. Life makes what it wants of you. I’ve been lucky.
Head on a pillow and clothes on the floor I sweat and shiver, something is wrong. I want someone to call, to come save me, but the woman who used to won’t and the one that will is too far away. This is my future, drool going cold on the sheets, muscles stiffening. I pass out hoping I wake up. I need to make things right.
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