notes entry on defendant's phone, 14/02/17
It's Valentine's Day. I don't know whether to be sad, happy, or in between. Should I rejoice in happiness? Wallow in sorrow? Be emotionless? People are expecting things of me and not telling me those things, and when I don't do those things or act that way, they get mad at me. I don't know what people want from me anymore. It's the first Valentine's Day that I've had in a long time where I don't have a valentine, an unusual feeling I'm not liking. I'm refusing to let go of the time when I had a valentine or two, basking in the glory of love. When everything was alright, my life was better than great, and I could live my life the way I wanted to. It's reminiscent of a better time, when I had everything in my life sorted, or at least more sorted than right now. I keep holding on, carrying more vivid descriptions of the emotions love entails and memories than I can handle. And I feel dragged down with this, but I can't let it go. I can't become weightless. These memories and descriptions are keeping my alive, giving me a purpose to try and better my own life. The feeling of being cherished, valued is one I desperately crave, and without a reminder of what that felt like, I have no will to live.
أنت تقرأ
Pulchritude
القصة القصيرةshe was pulchritudinous, and that pulchritude did both wonders and horrors for her. told in the form of voicemails, call transcripts, and other forms of communication
