not autobiographical, these ones. nope, nope.

11 June drabble:

This is about Linda Martin and the secrets she’s told; I should leave the rest of this blank for she’s kept all: every last secret I’ve told. Of boys, of men; of crushes, and of sexual fantasy. She’s kept secret all the hopes, the fears, the rants, the tears. Some are not secrets and still she’s kept them. But there is one that sticks out among the many and that is of a sixteen year old girl and the razors she dragged across her skin.

At nineteen, this girl held a razor to her wrist and contemplated ending it all.

12 June drabble:

It has been more than half your life since he died. Sometimes, if you squint, you think you might be able to picture him, but it never seems to work. No pictures flash in your mind. What does that mean anyway, you wonder? All you see when you close your eyes is black. This is why you squint. But, it doesn’t work.

Once you wanted to go to his grave, but what good would that have done? You’d sit there in the quiet, surrounded by headstones, squint your eyes and see only the green, green grass and cold, silent granite.