series of unfortunate events.

dear diary,

these thoughts are an abandoned house doused in gasoline.
set to fire by the fear that engulfs me.
falling into picturesque clouds, but they are only tiny water droplets with no way of catching me.
smack into reality of life, or death.

a baby is what i am, yet i’m the person my mom goes to for advice on how to handle death.

why am i the lucky one?

i can’t help but to think that it’s only by chance that my feet are still planted on this ground, rather than there being roses and crosses six feet above my feet.
the same feet that used to walk to school everyday with the friends that have been put to rest.
life support supports no more.
his hands i can hold no more.
his songs he used to sing to me…they taunt me in my sleep.

i say it’s numb to me when in fact it’s the very thing i fear.
knots form within my skin.
the blinking of my eyes form suspense of what will happen when reality sets in.
a sequence of hieroglyphics is imprinted in my head.
shots of shots fired is what plays on repeat.

why? how? why am i chosen to still be here?


rest in peace my darling friends.


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