I think I might start writing again.

Real writing.

Putting myself down.

Ink and paper. 

Or maybe just pressing some keys down until I’m dry.

Maybe that’s what went wrong.

I stopped writing.

I stopped letting things out. Until I convinced myself that I couldn’t.

That it was a bad idea. That it made things worse.

And today is a nice day. It put my bad mood away for a little while.

It even took my thoughts away from her for a little while.

I walked out and felt serene. Just for a second.

But I think that was enough. 

Maybe I’ll sleep tonight.

Maybe I’ll sleep now.

Maybe I’ll waste this beautiful day. 

Turn myself into my nightmares.

Then I’ll wake up into another one.

Maybe they’ll kill me again.

We’ll just have to see. 

Today is nice.

It won’t last.