Forgive me for I have abused my abuse

I recognize this smell. Once again, I make my way into despair’s waiting room. I’m shame’s commander-in-chief; self-pity’s whore. I have the intention of a saint but the body of a sailor.

Diario: the shape of fear

The other day I was thinking: "What is the one thing that has defined me throughout the years, since I was little?" It didn’t take long to answer. It’s my ability to stand up against fear and swim toward it, even while being terrified of every possibility.

Caring?

"Caring?"—he replied, confused. It wasn’t a word most people used to describe him. "Yes. Caring and loving," said the man, legs wide open as he pushed himself in.