Miss Brittle Bones is what they use to call me.
It was on Friday the 13th, when I suffocated in my sleep from the endless tossing and turning between these sheets. It was on Friday the 13th when I had stepped into the darkness and met my creator.
And here, now, my new home, it is different.
I still remember what the birds once sang to me and what the sounds of the city once howled. Though the sounds this place makes, remains unexplored to me.
Did I leave quietly? Did I leave a mess while..leaving?
Perhaps life just give up on me as I was much like a rose that never really bothered to blossom when it should have a long time ago, and the sun has grown weary of trying and waiting?
I am living a life that does not exist anymore.