I am not obsessed... i'm suffering from a sort of plague, or a haunting. It makes no difference what i may do, or where i may go: there is no escape. The constant jerking on my heart strings confine my memory to what i've been deprived. It had been placed arrogantly in front of me, enticing me onward, whispering for me to "grab it, take it, it's yours..."
but it lied.
And it is this memory that haunts me, day and night.
It is not out of obsession that my writing continues to reflect such anguish.
This is the healing process of a young, deceived girl, previously ignorant of the worlds cruelty, now slowly shedding the naive beliefs that once ruled her thoughts and actions.
~drugs can only aid to a certain extent~
1 comment:
My mistake
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