What is it about the night that not only snuffs out the brightness of the day, but the warm, happy thoughts that are more prevalent while the sun is out?
Hi, my name is Sarah and I am suicidal.
Politics is now a dirty word.
Crashing a vase to the floor is highly therapeutic, especially when it is understood that the store selling said vase is insured.
Walls closing in, that feeling of terror when multiple people you do not know come up to you forcing unwanted compliments down your throat and the terrifying feeling that even church is not safe—making enduring social anxiety a nightmare.
I think I will start writing about the holiday season, see it is been a while since I have written so I am a little rusty. I mean, look at that first sentence, how sloppy is that? Several months ago I could have written that a lot better, but the only way to regain my “writers flow” is to jump right back into the swing of things and to start from the beginning.