You are putting me to shame with your self-made and your work outs and your strong will. I am weak and full of sugar like so many little-girl dreams. Silence on all channels, though my head is aching, pounding, as if he’s been screaming for these six days and nights straight. Can you hear it? That silence that blooms violence in my veins because all it can mean is sorry. “Sorry,” because I know you would be. “Sorry,” because this is all her doing. “Sorry,” because none of this is you and none of this is me. We regressed. We got lost. Saving ourselves from drowning in our pools by wading out to sea. I lost my grip on your hand somewhere down the line, starfish.
come away
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24, feminist, writes some stuff sometimes.
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“Life is about doing things that don’t suck with people who don’t suck.”— John Green
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“When someone says ‘I have these two crystals if you rub them together you’ll get healthy.’ Rather than just discount it—because that’s as lazy as...”
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