On Wednesday it'll be a year.
My head is full of spinning wheels and my chest is full of fluttery, slippery, sharp-toothed little beasties eating at the wiring till I'm gasping and aching.
I keep looking in the opposite direction, trying to trick myself, the way they tell you not to look when you get a jab because somehow that hurts less. I worry that if I look I'll find a gaping hole where my heart was 353 days ago.
My head is full of spinning wheels and my chest is full of fluttery, slippery, sharp-toothed little beasties eating at the wiring till I'm gasping and aching.
I keep looking in the opposite direction, trying to trick myself, the way they tell you not to look when you get a jab because somehow that hurts less. I worry that if I look I'll find a gaping hole where my heart was 353 days ago.
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