Do you think it’s still good?

And as fast as she rises, she falls.

Less than two hours after leaving my best friend it all hits me. Like a sandbag plummeting from the stage lights, my self control flying, swinging, flailing like the rope of the bag.

Go get what makes you happy. Go live your life. Be happy. Choose to be happy.

I know I chose this life. The good, bad, and ugly of it are all on me. But I’ve really been trying. To be better, again. To be good and thoughtful. Professional and organized. Less of a burden.

I’m so tired of pretending that I am okay. I’m not, in any way, okay.

I feel like an apple that’s sat too long. Shiny, vibrant red. Forgotten. Soft and decayed on the inside. And nobody realizes til it’s too late. And the apple just gets thrown out.

I’m worried about getting thrown out. I’m so scared.

I wish I was a twinkie.

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