rachelmbrown92
There we knelt, everyday, our prayers brought up to God from our mahogany alter. These words curling in the sweet smell of incense. Something I thought was so meaningful. It is crushing when you find out the emptiness of it all.
There is a canister behind the cabinet in which my mother keeps her paperclips. She fills the canister everyday with bits of paper clipped together. It drives me mad, those little notes, none making much sense to me, like "Her heart is still glued together" and "Nothing is wrong but neither is anything right." Those notes are so important to her.