I'm sat on the swing from our childhood garden and I can feel everything pass me by. My body hurts and so does my heart. It's like the feeling of holding your breath to avoid the disappointment. Nothing is happening. Like time has stood still and it ceases to matter. The photographs tell stories that we have long since forgotten, the memories got lost along the way. But all of those photographs are hidden for now at least. It hurts to look at them and remember when we were happy. Avoiding things never works, it always finds a way to catch up with you in the end no matter how good you hide. The cupboard under the stairs was one of my favourite hiding places until that day when everything changed. I gave up all my hiding places and told you all my secrets. but now you are listening to someone else's hidden moments. Nothing can replace the times we shared but I know this for sure, I leave notes in all the places I've been, one day they will be found and I will be like the dust that gathers after night fall, gone and no where to be found. Your fingertips will trace over these feelings and be saddened by the truth of it all.
Write something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview.