Writing this is a little bit harder than usually because some of the fingers on my right hand are bruised, my index, middle, and ring. And also the tips are cold to the touch, I am wearing a long sleeved shirt. And in the cold of the room, the night wrapped around us, the ceiling fan humming, and no blankets to keep us warm, except for your hand. Through a strained voice I told you...all the things I kept locked away, except for when I sifted through them, finding happier times, but now they are all laced with the bad thoughts from the now. And then you shared with me. Our stories were...almost the same. I think that's what made you sad and happy the most, because you found that you were not alone after all.

[Welcome to The Vault. I'll occasionally tag posts with this label to denote drafts that were originally written some time ago but never published. I won't be editing these posts beyond minor proofreading because I'd like to maintain the integrity of the original content. It's likely I won't recall exactly why I wrote something. I know of the date however I can't simply push forward the post from draft to published because it will place it at the date it was originally written, and no one would know I've published "new" content. I hope you enjoy.]

Labels: The Vault