Eyes closed, feet dancing their way toward the pond, she was her own music, her body her favorite thing she’d ever owned.
I’m so thirsty I could inhale a waterfall.
His glassy green eyes glint in my direction.
We are flies – gathering, swarming – bulging eyes and fragile bones flittering nervously toward imagined destinies. We hurl our bodies at the panes of tentalizing windows, aching for the world promised on the other side. Day after day we drag injured wings and eyes and organs around the same four walls; opened or closed, the exits elude us. We hope to be rescued by a breeze, hoping for a chance to see the sun.
I love you,” I whisper. “I love you exactly as you are.” Warner.
In the absence of human relationships I formed bonds with paper characters. I lived love and loss through stories threaded in history; I experienced adolescence by association. My world is one interwoven web of words, stringing limb to limb, bone to sinew, thoughts and images all together. I am a being comprised of letters, a character created by sentences, a figment of imagination formed through fiction. They.
Realization is ice-cold water and it’s dripping down my back.
And then she took it off, slipped it on my index finger, and said, ‘If you hide your heart, he will never be able to take it from you.
I want to be able to feel you,” he whispers, his words at my ear. “I want your skin against mine.” His gentle hands move down my body. “Gosh, you’re so soft,” he says, his voice husky with emotion.
We don’t have to do anything at all to die. We can hide in a cupboard under the stairs our whole life and it’ll still find us.
I am a spectacle, an anomaly even among the anomalies.
And even when you’re ready to let go. When you’re ready to break free. When you’re ready to be brand-new. Loneliness is an old friend standing beside you in the mirror, looking you in the eye, challenging you to live your life without it. You can’t find the words to fight yourself, to fight the words screaming that you’re not enough never enough never ever enough. Loneliness is a bitter, wretched companion. Sometimes.
I force myself to lock away the fear.
The world is bleeding.
He raises his eyebrows. “At least I’m honest about being a liar.
Because it’s so difficult to fight what you cannot control and right now I can’t even control my own imagination as it grips my hair and drags me into the dark.
I’m an old creaky staircase when I wake up.
I forget, sometimes, that there are people out there who still manage to smile everyday, despite everything.
You shot Adam,” are the only words I can think of. My mind is muddled with disbelief. I keep seeing his beautiful body crumpled on the ground, red red red. I need to know if he’s alive. He has to be alive. Warner’s eyes flash. “Kent is dead.” “No –.
I’m really paying attention to my surroundings. All of a sudden my senses feel sharper, clearer; my entire being feels like it’s humming with a renewed kind of energy. I am electric.