What is belonging?” we ask. She says, “Where loneliness ends.
Forgetting was not the same as healing.
I am a boy and a girl and a witch all wrapped into one very strange, flimsy, indecisive body. Do you think my body couldn’t decide what it wanted to be?
Pretty was a strange thing to concern oneself over. Pretty was subjective and fallacious.
One can only go for so long without asking ‘who am I?’, ‘where do I come from?’, ‘what does all this mean?’, ‘what is being?’, ‘what came before me and what might come after?’. Without answers there is only a hole. A hole where a history should be that takes the shape of an endless longing. We are cavities.