The first thing I noticed was that I was sad. The second thing I noticed was that I was sick. The third thing I noticed was that I was funny.
But here I am, 28 years old standing before the opening doors of closeted memories. Memories worse than my nightmares, worse than what I had thought I escaped. Memories I thought I killed and buried have been dug out of their graves.
DAYS ( I wrote this about nine years ago now but I still think it’s worth sharing despite its age. 19 year old me was a whole other animal) You are telling me it’s too […]
TRIGGER WARNING: The recordings I am sharing here are not suitable for most likely any audience. Though they are readings of a thirteen year old girls diary, they are dark in nature and contain sexual […]
Confessions Over Tea Baby left rime Round the edges of infinity Disguised as pearls And hanged herself From your apartment door She froze concave, then Planting arrows, whispering Paper moth wings Behind your […]
I remember the first time I inquired about suicide, I was 7 or 8 years old. I still shared a room with my sister.
My diary from 2016 is one of the most disruptively sorrowful journals, filled with entries dedicated to fear.
Growing up in Browns Mills, New Jersey, the pine barrens, I was made to believe that I lived in a haunted house that was once occupied by an unknown serial killer named Charlie Brown, who […]
The nightmares that have plagued me my entire life have not only revealed themselves to true, but worse than I could have ever let myself imagine.