

Dried FlowersI sit on the floor in front of my wall of books, gazing at the dusty bottom shelf. This is where I keep my old journals, books full of childish thoughts and long-forgotten desires. They are meticulously labeled, beginning with the first when I was ten years old, dated March 4-October 15, 1992. I rarely even glance at them, and have often considered simply throwing them in the trash to make room for the tomes that are currently overflowing into my kitchen and bedroom, but somehow I cant bring myself to do it. I run my fingers over the bindings, lightly, leaving a trail in the thick layer of dust. I pick one out at random, a slim reDried Flowers


Cutting out the soulSince the dawn of humanity, we have searched, prayed, philosophized, begged for an answer, and now, finally, I know. The soul has become organic at last, as simple and logical as a fingernail. It came to me in a dream. It sounds cliché I suppose, but there you have it. God, heaven, mother Earth spoke to me as clearly as if they stood next to me. The soul, they said, must be isolated. I must release it from this prison of veins and arteries and bones. When it is free, I will be one with them. I will know what it is like to have no body, to be one with them, at last. It is what we all pray for. And they granted it to me. I stanCutting out the soul
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"let these eyes show you sights that one has never shown before, let this hand shine with light as I lead you to the door" Cassandra C T
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