inside i'm breaking.
in the plane on the way home i rest my head against the window. the sun drops, its golden beams gleaming against the water, making a pathway towards the horizon. tears drip down my icy face. it's useless to try and wipe them away.
two years ago he told me he used to slice himself with glass, letting out the feelings that hurt too much to say.
he's been dead since august. i didn't know.
at home i take one pill too many. serotonin creeps through the secret tunnels in my body. i go to sleep.
unlike him, i wake up.