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This diary entry is written by ‹Indifferent›. ( View all entries )
 
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Wednesday, 8 December 2010
06:41:46 PM (GMT)
Making a fool of yourself makes you feel as cold as the snow beneath your feet. The humiliation of the crude remark from someone below your age. Or fear that lies in the pit of your stomach from the threat of an older one. It make you wish it never happened. Or you weren't there for it to happen. Just as if you're the snow people pay no mind to. Instead tear bits of you before your left to melt.
Dedecus mos nunquam subsisto ut futurus
Shame will never cease to exist.


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