this is metaphoric, by the way

It feels like I can't talk to my right hand anymore. That it's socially accepted by my body to be an obscene gesture to look at or even think about my right hand. That while it's still a functioning member of my body, it's separated. I used to be "Garrett with his right hand" but now I'm just "Garrett." There's no attachment, there's no use- just myself. I just wonder if my right hand thinks about me as often as I do. We can't be this close and be so far apart.

Can we?

887 hit(s) (2 comments) | the sky is crying  
let the sunshine in

Maybe the meaning of life is whatever that keeps us from killing ourselves and seeing what is on the other side.

What if you lose this object? Even worse, what if you never find it at all?

111 hit(s) (0 comments) | the sky is crying  
 
 
 
 
 
 
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