I just can't seem to make myself care anymore. No. no one cares. No one. She cared, she cared about everything, she made the world seem real. But it isn't. This is a dream. There is nothing to live for, being there is no life. I don't know why I am, or why anything is, but I do know that it isn't real.
BẠN ĐANG ĐỌC
A journal of the criminally insane.
Kinh dịYou know, I can still hear her voice sometimes, or her last breath. I wanted to catch it in a jar so she would never stop breathing. So that she would not be lost. But that wouldn’t have saved her. Nothing could. She’s gone. And she’s never coming...
