I'm tired. Sorrow drains you. Regrets cut you off at the knees it seems.
I'm surprised I'm still standing.
Opened the papers today and realised life continues anyway. Nothing stops for death. It slows you down though; makes you limp, bends your knees, makes your shoulders stoop, makes you fall on your ass or face, whichever comes first.
Today I want to get up a bit, want to fight back. It is not in my nature to cry so much. Doesn't solve anything. Messes up my make up. My eyes get small, nose red. The sounds are worse. It is not a pretty sight.
It is time.
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