xxtiffanymarie

August Fifth. It’s strange how sometimes you stop amidst your tracks and think, just think, about the life you’re living. Whether you’re sitting on a bench in your local park, reading a book, or talking to your friend on the phone, there’s always a certain instance in which you put down everything and ask yourself simple questions in which you thought you were expert in before. “What exactly does it mean, to live?” you find yourself asking as you ponder the reason for your being. It’s quite complicated, really, this simple concept we call ‘life’. So many uncertainties fill the air as people rush t

August __? I’m starting to lose track of the days that pass; the calendar on the bottom of this damn thing isn’t working properly. I’m so used to the dimly lit space, the only light coming from my laptop; I cringe whenever I leave to go to the bathroom, and I’m only receiving one meal a day, if you can even call it that. Dad’s excuse states simply that I remind him too much of my mother: he’s still hung up over the whole ordeal, apparently. That would make sense, maybe, if he was speaking to a child whose mother just recently left; but it’s been five or six years, depending on the date. He should be over it