Those Hands


Something freakin scared me tonight. Today had been challenging, so I did my usual therapy thing – went to a bookstore. Got a tea from the cafe, wandered around looking for anything interesting. Bookstore vibes cure anything.

BUT – if there was a mirror there, I would have stared at it – What the FUCK are you doing here??? Drinking tea, looking at things like cookbooks, self-improvement shit, home decorating, journals.

I don’t belong here anymore. 

If you’ve been reading VB any length of time, you know where I’m coming from –

Deep darkness, of questionable morality, passionate, cunty, edgy, bitch –  my life force. I didn’t have the courage or vision to go through this process alone, didn’t get to this point alone. Have come this far – can’t go back. Won’t. Like being squeezed between my past and future without a hand to hold onto anymore to pull me through.

This chick does not ever feel sorry for herself. Just sharing a freaky thing that happened. Now it’s entirely up to me to find the way home without those hands.

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