People are flaking away like dead skin and soon there will be nothing holding me together. It doesn’t matter if I write our story on my thigh or on the internet or if I tell him or her or anyone that I love them or that I hate them or that I feel anything at all towards them. It doesn’t matter if I tell them that everything I do is for them, whomever they may be.
It doesn’t matter if I write about them or if I purposely omit them from my writing. They’re just names and codes and puzzles anyway. Only my mind can see their faces.
At first it didn’t matter that the borders were widening because the framework was still there. Now the skeleton shakes and rattles. It is going away and I want to sew everything back together but I can’t stop other people from evolving just because I lie dormant.