Magical Tipsy Toes

It’s late at night when it comes. It comes and hits me real hard. I didn’t realise just how much till I could feel it physically hurt me.

Till tonight.

It’s been broken into a million of pieces. In my head it made sense. You tell yourself something. You believe it. You breathe it. You tell it to follow your thoughts. Practical. That’s the rule. Repeat thoughts in your head….believe thoughts in your head. And never allow yourself to think otherwise. It doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter.

One look.
That’s all it took.

1095 days of things in the mind shot to hell.

In my head it made sense. You tell yourself something. You believe it. You breathe it. You tell it to follow your thoughts. Practical. That’s the rule. Repeat thoughts in your head….believe thoughts in your head. And never allow yourself to think otherwise. It doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter.

Same level, baby.
Just different context.

It is a bastard place.

So I came to work with a heavy heart. Christmas is in a week and I’m not really feeling it. I found out things I shouldn’t have found out. I’m scared of the things that are to happen. And there is bound to be some blood spilt this week.

I give up.

So here’s a letter to you, 2006. Enjoy it.

Dear 2006,

You bastard. I hate you.

Piss on you,
Kelly