"But I buffet my body, and make it my slave.."
There is nothing more but this strand, this strand I helplessly hold on to. No way to really combat the upheaval, no other way but to embrace the insecure grounding. It is Monday and I can't have anymore. I can't keep going wishing that other strands had been thrown toward the bloody waters I'm despairingly trying to come out of. Thank God B came today. I need my friends, oh how combustible yet lifeless I feel. If only little kibs and nibbles can keep me from succumbing to this surge taking me in and out and in even more-Survival. The struggle. The infamous fucking struggle-- nothing satisfies, and even when it does the cost is too fucking much. I've paid, I've paid-- but what else should I give? Even my voice, my spline, my guts! These locust-eaten years, years and years with only artistry to keep me from crumbling. I'm done. I'm done trying to make u understand cuz all u do is underestimate me. All u do is turn ur head when I'm standing infront with all this lost blood, and losing, losing even my self. I shouldn't care. I should let go. Please God, help me let go.