I don't know to laugh or cry.. nobody would know if anything happened to me for so long. Hell, it's been admitted already by people that they wouldn't hear about it. Let alone, most everyone wouldn't give a fuck or care too much. And, yeah, I'd bet my ass that it includes people that read this, as well. I could probably count the friends I have
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Which, begs the question. Who are you?
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Also, I believe we're thinking different forms of emptiness. Internal vs. external.
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I'm sorry I have to be so far away, but I am with you in spirit.
My tattoos anchor me and keep me from that void of which you speak. I was lost in my own for a long time. Drowning, falling, crying, reaching, and surrounded by unfamiliar faces I've known for years. My tattoos remind me of my strength, that there are people who care, and that wherever I am is wherever I need to be. They are the signposts on the map of life that is my skin. my flesh. My self.
I cannot say how you will escape your sorrow, but know that I am here, and my thoughts turn toward you often, and hopefully that will help. I know I am not the person you seek, but I can only hope to help. ::kisses you on the forehead and smiles quietly::
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