The thought of taking down all my pictures made me think there would be no way I’d be able to sleep. The walls would be stark white, bare and so telling of my non-existence. Once tomorrow is over.
So I leave them up, delay their removal and busy myself with angst over my reflection in the mirror. A year has past- oh so quick! and yet I am feeling a little sick. I still can’t fathom the face that bares a forced grin, fakes hope and happiness back at me through the rectangular framed glass.
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