ᴀᴜɢᴜsᴛɪɴᴇ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍ⁞×

[keep out]

date of breakdown: october 29, 2011

i don't own APH.

I have only one drawer that locks because no one goes through my shit anyway. But I'm getting tired—so here. You're curious, aren't you?

There's only a notebook in it anyway. You wanna read it? Good luck, half that crap's illegible.

He leaves the room, and the door is loud if only because the rest of the home is quiet. The book is open to one of those illegible pages, smeared with water—tears?—and some rusty liquid you don't want to know the origins of. You flip until you find one of the better pages.

see this pen? it's magic.

it makes the pain turn into words and it leaves my chest and imprints itself onto paper.

because either the pain goes away

or i do.

You don't want to read any more?

Good choice.

don't ask. i hurt.