eclaire
At the top of the hill, surrounded by the tall pines and steep dirt paths, stood the lodge. The ice cream they sold there made being away from home slightly more bearable, but it was never what I really needed.
She's anything but. And God, how it shows. She's crying on the floor, she's slashing at her thighs. She's laughing, she's smiling, maybe she's better-- nope, back to the floor.
Framed by mountains, hills, and the sandstone plateaus of my state, my view has always been one of immense natural beauty. I can gaze for hours and only see the good Earth.
I should be studying now, but I;m not. I'm wide awake and all I can do is think of you. I wish you were here. I want you to be here, because the only thing I want to study is your body.
My mother is a violinist. She plays every day, the bow stroking each delicate string. She loves her violin. She loves it more than she loves me. Her disease has eaten away at her until she can barely remember who I am, she can't be left alone. But she plays violin every day.
How I limit myself on everything. "Only eat half of that." I never eat the other half, and it's starting to show.
She picked it up and felt the weight of it. It was good, sturdy, and never shifting. She lifted it higher. She threw it through the glass window. No more beauty in this neighborhood.
Hospitals, doctors, so many surgeries I can't even count them anymore. And still, I'm not any better, and I doubt I ever will be. All I want is to be free and happy and for the love of God, healthy again.
He said "Do you know how fast you were going?" "No, Officer." Yes, I did. "Oh, well I missed what the gun said...so..." and he walked away.
He was violent. Up until the day he left, he was mean, and hurtful, and he would hit you as soon as look at you. Since he left, my life was peaceful. So I looked for violence in other places. And I found it.
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