I am the author of my own life.
I am the writer behind my own mind.
I am the string and I am the knife; 25 more words
Feeling like dust waiting to be distributed you assault the decanter, repeatedly.
You need the drink.
You also need a pack of cigarettes, scented candles and a scolding bubble bath but you don’t have the energy to run the water or to make yourself presentable enough to take a walk to the shops. 91 more words