It’s raining outside and I’ve never seen anything more reflective of my insides.
I still call them that, because I’m not sure I believe in souls, so I can’t say I have one.

It’s really fall now. Leaves have finally started decorating the concrete.
Nature in the midst of buildings. One jungle inside another.

There’s music playing on my laptop. I’ve never heard the song, but it’s beautiful.

The kind of beautiful I want to be when I grow up. The kind I can point to and say “puberty did that”.

But high heels and rain don’t go together. Neither does this new song with my mood.

Skip.

This one is okay. The tempo is a bit too quick, but I’ll leave it.

There’s purple near the ground and a colour like turmeric still hanging on to the limbs.

I hate when people stop outside the door. It makes me nervous. They can turn around and see me at any minute. I don’t want to be seen – not by them. I’m not ready.

It’s been raining for days, so I haven’t been able to wear my new sneakers. The running shoes I bought so I wouldn’t have an excuse, but that I’ve only used twice. I’ve decided to just wear them now. No sense in wasting a perfectly good pair of shoes.

A perfectly good life. A perfectly good day. Except is there any such thing? Was there ever any such thing?

To combat low self esteem you should look your best at all times.

Yeah – because that definitely works.

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Because breathing is all I can do, I exhale and inhale through my tears, forcing myself not to think because combining problems won’t fix any of them and let’s not make this cry about everything wrong in my life. She is gone. It is unbelievable, but she is. And you did get lost today because you didn’t get enough sleep and you felt like a failure and you wanted attention from somewhere and couldn’t get it. Because the internet is not a person and notifications aren’t hugs.

It is okay that you forgot your class, because messing up five percent of your grade will not prove detrimental to your future or your well-being. You feel like you can’t keep track of everything at work, but it’s not your fault the office is understaffed and you are human. Please don’t beat yourself up.

She is gone, my love. And she loved you while she was here with all she had. Do the same, to yourself.

Please.

Love your body. It is the only one you have.