jazzmyyn

You walk into your home, and all you see is this red liquid. It's thick and clotted and smells like a weird mix of iron and vinegar, and the first thing you think is wow, what a pretty color. You know what it is, of course, but you kneel down and wipe it up and lick it off your fingers anyway, and you pretend it's something it's not, because that's just what you do. You find something you don't like and you make it something else, and it isn't running away, you insist to yourself, because when you run you only die tired. Not that you have to worry about that, because angels never die. You see your sister, just a twisted body in what might ha

You grow up rough, and the angels spit on you. So you grow up strong, and you're left alone. You grow up lonely, and you're needy. You grow up wanting everyone, and no one wants you. So you grow up fierce, and people fear you. You grow up vengeful, and no one stands in your way. And still you're lonely, so you swim. You were born to swim, and when you hit the water it burns your body like salt on an open wound, harsh and unrelenting. You grow up rejected, and you grow up hurt. You grow up until your heart's too small for your body and you have a constant, aching pain in your chest. You grow up loving her, and you're happy. You're happy fo