Geplaatst Deze week weer een hersenspinsel van mijzelf op papier gezet. En ik durf het toch maar eens aan om het op [UK] te plaatsen. *spanning spanning spanning*
Het is nog een beetje klad want er moeten her en der wel wat zinnen geoptimaliseerd worden
met name het begin
Toch was ik heel benieuwd wat jullie bokkers er van vinden vandaar dat ik hem er wel opzet.
Citaat:It wasn't me
It looks like I was getting used to it. Like it is normal. I'm not covering my ears anymore. I'm not crying anymore. But there is something that didn't change. Just some little tiny feeling.
I was aware of what was coming. I closed my eyes, goosebumps are covering my arms. My knees are getting weak underneath me, softly I was sliding down to the ground. My hands where in fists my hands are getting white , my face turned pale.
Seconds were passing , minutes were passing. It looks like hours it was only 15 minutes.
My pale face was getting some color again.
I turned to look at my wrists. My wrists who were marked with another wound, what is getting a big scar again. Wich would look nice between all the other scars wich were covering my wrists.
My wrists wich suppose to be natural and beautiful like the wrists of all the people around me.
Mine aren't but they are mine. Only mine.
