I do not want to blog anymore. Then again how many times have I done things I didn't want to?
Been feeling really moody today, and I wish it was as simple an explanation as PMS. Which my body still hasn't gotten used to again.
I've been getting irritated with little girls lately, and I got home today to see my bulletin board wrecked by my niece.
It was my first time in life placing my head in my hands from the stress. I thought they only did this in movies.
When she was born, I told myself I would be the best aunt ever. Now I'm terrified of being the aunt whom you never get to see at all, who avoids family gatherings because of her own emotional problems.
I heard of girls who cut their hair short as a symbol of their just breaking up with someone precious. I cut mine for a loss infinite times worse.
And then I traded this loss for ink, etched onto my tummy, the very spot where your head once was. I don't care that it is permanent, because so is your death.
You would have been a September girl, just like me.
I'd give up the world for you. I'm willing to see the world end, if it means I get to hold you for a minute or even less.
I miss you always, but I wish you would stop visiting. I love you, but I'm really tired.
