Critical, creative and digital writingEcriture critique, créative et numérique

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01 07 2017  

End of a line

It's like the absence of a heartbeat, a hole in the chest that sucks death in and leaves me stranded on the shores of my fate. It's like I'm missing a chunk of my soul, like the foundations of my bodily home had worn away with the winter breeze and had congealed into clouds of solid pain on the other side of the horizon. It's the end of a line, a career change, a leap of faith into the unknown territory of "actually having to do stuff," as they like to say, and I'm scared! I'm scared to dive into the frozen water of my forgotten dreams! I'm scared to leave the safe haven of doing with my thoughts and words! I'm scared to tread on this line of life that's bound to end in tears of lies and smiles of hate. So I write and I hope for the best, for there's nothing that can end a true line of happiness.