project35

in a late, soft whispered rumination under the soft illumination of the moon

from a time when i was more resigned, and held less strength in my voice.

I’ve waited my whole life for the universe to back off of me. It hasn’t, and it shows no signs of giving me a soft and peaceful life. 

I’ve tried really hard to fight through it all. 

I’m tired of fighting. 

I don’t want to fight to live anymore. 

I think there is a part of me that thinks writing this book will save me. 

That I will find something in here that makes life worthwhile. 

Who knows, I’m twelve pages in. I might find my HAIL MARY again.

-thus begins the birth of 32... which later becomes project35