"The Blackbirds are rough today."

It's 6:44am. Just as it is always 6:44am. Monday comes with 5 o'clock.

I've got much to say, but the words have left with the rain.

I'm hopeful, while he calls me a liar and he is right. He scolds me for not being stronger before, for failing to keep my promises to myself. I hang up the phone with the three words I long to say the most sitting heavily on my chest. I'm not playing this game. I'm not playing this fucking game today.

What happened to exams based on fact? I don't want to share my sacred place. It is my sacred place, not their sacred place. If she asks us to read these in class, I will politely decline. This isn't creative writing or genre or short story. I prefer to save my raw emotion for those classes. Not this one.....

I hate emotionally draining days that start so early.