Broke
Julia Swindeman
It came to me slowly. It started in my abdomen and was a deep dark pit. It was dread and disorder and an absolute disaster. The questions rise from a place of insecurity. They are persistent and irritating. One might say that they are annoying. They hurt my head. Sharp. Stabbing. It makes me a rollercoaster of emotion that turns into a tsunami. Cut me down, and tear me up maybe even spit me out. Make me into something besides what I am and make me into something insignificant. Let me fade ever so subtly. Let me disappear into the dust from which I came. Lay me down slowly and I will be free But do not dare raise your voice at me.
Volume 34.1 35
