i am here. just that. that all i am now.
i think the prophecy is wrong. there is no way the universe would torture me this humorously.
i saw all the stars tonight. dozens of miles away from harsh city light. i can only dream to be as beautiful as them.
so far this year, the only thing i’ve been is a disservice to the people around me. most days i’m too selfish to get out of bed.
i came home with blood on my hands and you were terrified of what i’d done to someone. it never occurred to you that the blood on my hands was my own.
to have gone through all of this, and to be as soft as i am, is truly a tragic delicacy. but still people perceive me as naive. i suppose they are no longer supportive of kindness.
there is hate brewing in my bones. i do not believe it will stop until you are laid to rest.
i find space to heal in the margins, in quiet afternoons, and in hugs from people i love.
we were everything. everything.
i read somewhere, that there is a day in the year that is always a catalyst. a day where you hit rock bottom for years on end. mine is november 9th.