cnhenry
I have no relatives. I do but they are distant. They are strangers. I live in a family of strangers. I have more in common with a man who asks me for a lighter than I do my flesh and blood family that send me Christmas Cards.
I hate my basement. It is damp. It is dark. The walls feel clammy. It is filled with things I do not want to remember and that I can never forget. I need to this basement. It does not need me. Everyone has a basement at the bottom of their soul. And the stairs creak all the way down.
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