the wool fibers of my favorite sweater are scratching against my wrists as i type this. my mother's draped in crocheted stitches. my stepfather, in plaid.
there's a large fissure draped across my heart now. last night, my chest caved in. i cried harder than i ever have. afterward, i sat cross-legged on my mattress and felt empty. it was both a wonderful and terrible feeling.
i stayed in my room until three in the afternoon, door locked. i wasn't hungry, even though i didn't eat anything yesterday either.
my eyes are weights. my fingers tremble. did i lose a part of myself last night? i think something's broken. can i fix it?
there's a large fissure draped across my heart now. last night, my chest caved in. i cried harder than i ever have. afterward, i sat cross-legged on my mattress and felt empty. it was both a wonderful and terrible feeling.
i stayed in my room until three in the afternoon, door locked. i wasn't hungry, even though i didn't eat anything yesterday either.
my eyes are weights. my fingers tremble. did i lose a part of myself last night? i think something's broken. can i fix it?