The girl in Boston, mirrored herself in mirrors all around her studio apartment.
Dying slowly.
Dying.
Death.
Love love death
Love = immortality.
Are people yet there? She whispered.
Studio is closed because of the virus. It is just strange to be here now that it is like she is the only one staying by. It is like almost home.

Mirroring herself..
Having no role models, all around seeing toxicity, going no where, memories are made something out of blue, like going to pubs like pod world made mud to play, snakes everywhere, people get laid here and there like dust, like love is what they would may call.

       She doesn't want to be saved. Shame is what we need to know, fucked up hearts, call please call, if you feel lonely.
'"Cause nobody is alone" :
Funny signs on advertisement. Shelly laughs to herself.
Business after all.

•
Going with the flow, when will she learn. Lake side house is still in her list.
Seeing all those horrible movies filled with filth and horror, she rather call it warning and what not to do guide. Maybe she will have good time, even though it is for the short time. Having her job at the antique shop seems to earn her the witch tag, people who doesn't mind would say. She knows it has not much to do with though. Now days she keeps herself by painting and watching some soap operas.
At high school life was kinda strangely sketchy. She knows one or two of dirty politics now.
    Rage makes her dive into herself
To look out for the good she is turning like a bad onion no one could find.

Shelly's notes:
6:30 p.m Sunday

Red color, blood pressure,  red blood cells, red blood,
Sssss soups, my brain my home?
sugar pop,
color mill
   how are you.

••

When you don't know much about yourself yet, still figuring out, and situations made you do commission on bad deeds and then you recognize and think why did you choose these and what again being good means.
The stage when you are rather good and turning point of life, life hits you hurricanes but you also remember, someone even said, do you need a umbrella?
Even though they creep in like vines of poison in their own way. Somebody to trust, somebody to forget.