My bags are mostly packed. I'm so tired I want to puke. Knowing that after tomorrow this time is a memory nags my heart. Tearing up. Tearing up. Tearing down.
I must reconstruct.
I can't stop crying, and my soul is swimming in churning oceans of glorious torture.
Thank you Ernesto.
1 comment:
uuuugh! Lighting gizz.
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