Wednesday, July 14, 2010

A Torn-up Note from the Hall in High School,

My eyes burn from the tears I've cried
Over time many flames of many paths down my cheeks
the fire worked from hate
You are t started fire and anger

But it is
lure of

for me to end in
away, my purpose is to bear the burdens of the world
el that my suffering is worth the little bit of happiness it brings others
But as time passes it becomes more that I am the carcass fed to the wolves
They destroy me and I nourish them
but I can only satisfy their hunger for a short period of time
When I am done being consumed, I am left with massive wounds
on I will be healing and regenerated to thrown to the wolves again

who created this
who suffers from it

is hard

as sp the p

process has gotten much harder
now I am fed upon before I am ready
is a never-ending, forever self-diminishing process.

ough it
l it


My heart really goes out to whoever wrote this. On the back is written the address for Port Authority and a bunch of bus times, so hopefully this person found their happiness somewhere else. Lord knows, the halls of Monroe Woodbury isn't the place for that. The letter is so garbled because it was torn into a lot of pieces, then run through the laundry. I don't really remember the details of how I came across it, why I picked up the pieces, etc. I think the laundering was my own damn fault, I forgot about it in a pants pocket for a long time, and came across it while working at Repro-Med. I tried to piece it together when I first rediscovered it, but didn't have the time. I found the pieces in a zip-lock today and finally took the time to puzzle the pieces out. It's even more heartbreaking when you put it together than it was lying in scraps on the floor. Maybe I'll post a picture at some point. Very post-secret-esque.

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