Apt (Silence)
There it is, a little death, appropriately named. There are many times where this has felt similarly, with my heart rising into my throat with uncertainty and panic, but this one I seem to be able to reason through. I'm not sure how we'll come back from this. I worry that you scar easily, and that I, like my predecessor, will become emblematic in your mind with pain. The disgusting and hateful word slips through my mind like the slackened drooling lips of the village idiot; but I can hope. There have been other things, they were overcome. Perhaps not one so crucial to the day to day routines: this revolution is free from corpse mouth. Especially when there is so very little to stand on, no matter how lovely the ephemera.
There are things to do.
Written On: Home Computer