And then, all at once, I was a bitch.
It’ll be Christmas in five minutes. It doesn’t feel like it. It doesn’t feel like anything really. Can’t say what it is that I’m trying to convey, but I feel different. I still want to drown when I imagine the life that is ahead of me. I still feel my skin crawl at the mention of the future. I am unsure. As to whether I am ashamed or not, silence is the only appropriate answer I can give.