I'm Kristine and I'm 18 years old. "And this above all else, to thine own self be true." - William Shakespeare
I’ve felt this way before.
But now, I realize
there is no greater pain
than the frigid waves of sadness
washing over you again.
It starts in your heart,
encasing it in an armor of ice;
its coldness licking at your chest,
its numbness soaking your veins,
its frozen tendrils slowly reaching towards
fingers and toes.
you are submerged in chilling darkness.
The reason why it must hurt
so much more this time
than last, is that;
I didn’t know just how sweet
the shoreline’s breath could be.
It wasn’t like she had a strategy, really, to kill herself next Tuesday or when the snow melted, or anything concrete like that. It was more of a backup plan: When the truth came out, and no one wanted to be around her anymore, it stood to reason she wouldn’t want to be around herself either.