S.K. Nicholas/A Journal for Damned Lovers

S. K. Nicholas


I am my faults and failings, and I wear them like scars. I am my boredom and lack of interest, and there is nothing to be ashamed of because I write from the heart and nothing else matters. There is love sometimes. There is apassion that burns and simmers, but I do my best to dampen it because it’ll wear me out like it has so many times before. Sometimes the urge and obsession to express myself with words leaves me disillusioned, and I want nothing more than to turn my back on it and settle down with a woman who can help nurse me back to health like she would a bird that’s fallen from its nest and broken its wing. But who am I kidding? I couldn’t quit this thing now, it has become me, and there’s no way back to the man who used to be me…

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