Write. Revise. Delete. Write. Revise. Delete.
The slow, shy tears of heaviness from an abused child slip out of hiding and slide down my face. I do not feel them.
I am overwhelmed. All the monsters visit me, day and night. I can feel no more.
But I can not ignore the ones who ask to hold on. To find peace.
I do not know who to believe. I just know I’m too tired for life .
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