MATHETΩN

Heartsick.

No it’s not love—not tonight. I’ve been wicked and I feel dull and broken and I hurt I am so sorry for it and the worst thing is I don’t see any way to make it right. There always is a way, and I do always make things right no matter how bold or humble I must be. I repent, and then I can cry and breathe and hurt a different better way.

But tonight I see no egress—I am walled in, buried alive. I can’t sleep; I will sit here wretched and sad.