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carthage
It's what my words did to this poor page. My mind feels like a thick morass of rot and waste,  and I dredge it all up, scrape the place to its tired core, and smear the thick festering mess of it across this clean white hell, like snot on a(more)
StupidSexyFlanders
Unclear. What once was easy, now is hard.

I had clean faith once. What a gift! To believe. To feel secure. Enfolded.

Shattered. (more)
Hilfy
I'm trying here.
C'mon!
I'm struggling.
I am fighting against impulsion to delete everything I've written here.
Why do I love to write? (more)