my breathing was slow and labored.
was it really worth getting out of bed? would my misery just take hold like it always did, like an old friend or some one you just couldn't get rid of. that shadow always peeking through. are you serious? i suppose, i suppose so. and now he's dead, aren't you proud of yourself? i wish i could find the worsd to describe how i feel but they wont' come out and i feel really terrible and gross and old and young and just incomplete in general.
i think in run on sentences.
one day they'll all be sorry. one day one day one day but when will it come?
