Dear You
Welcome to my head. What I write here is a product of instances, consequences, coincidences, and heartache. Here before you is my soul- my inner trappings. Yours truly, Her.
It's been a long while. I'm sure people have forgotten about you already...like a rag doll that's been ignored by it's owner and left in that attic to gather dust. Probably like me. I am a rag doll. The day before I turn 19.
I lay unmoved... for a while? Maybe. I'll probably stay like this in the remaining seconds of my 18th year. No surprise there? Wow. Same thing I did in my last moments as a 17 year-old.
Once you have something long enough- played with it, sewed it back up, changed it's appearance, and talked to it- nothing about it holds the magic that you once saw when it was new. Pity that.
