people who make you feel better about yourself when you’re sad are so important
escapism; the tendency to seek distraction and relief from unpleasant realities
I loved her. So much. And she died. I only get the general sense of things and they pass so quickly, like childhood smells touching you and then being gone on the breeze. But. But but but. It feels strange to be writing this down - I think I believed I could change what happened, undo it, prevent it, save her life somehow after she was already gone. Of course I couldn’t. Dead is dead is dead. || [x]
Dartmoor. It’s always been a place of myth and legend. But is there something else lurking out here? Something very real.