I can’t resist the urge to break. It’s almost like a need, a physical itch that demands I scratch it with a freshly sharpened pocket knife. I hate this feeling. I am filled up with things and stuff instead of love and warmth, and it hurts. I want to cry. Every day I want to … Continue reading “I’m failing. Everything that I am; body, mind, spirit, and all the other shit in between, I am a failure.”