The war Within a Letter

unreally written

The truth, reality – I question it’s existance. What I felt yesterday often seems so distant. I reach for it… grasp onto it, clinging for life, almost literally. Tiny hands extend from inside my mind wiping away at the negative illusion I feel like was created without my permission. Cheap windshield wipers only smearing the negative recollections among the positive.







Or is that the medication talking? or is that the depression talking? It’s dark in here. Too dark to find the light switch and with every step I stumble.

I’ve got to sit down. I’m tired.

I have to tell you  this while I can:

The truth is, I love you. I love the person you are and the person you are to me. I think you know this, even if in the moment I’m not giving you the reassurance I know you deserve.

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