The Fabric of Our Souls

by K.M. Moronova

Whoever coined the phrase “sticks and stones” is an asshole, don’t you think? Words indeed hurt more than stones. Thanks for trying to gaslight me out of it though. It didn’t work.

Avoidance has always been my coping mechanism. If I don’t think about it, it doesn’t matter. My day goes on.

My mind is a plague that needs to be cured and people like me are damned to chase this mysterious elixir.

That’s what the real world does to us, isn’t it? Grind, grind, grind for forty-plus hours a week just to stand at the grocery store and worry about whether you can afford food.

wait for the weight of the world to pass. Wait until the tremors that wrack through your skull drift into the depths again. Wait until the sun rises, and the light makes you feel a little less pointless.”

His presence is like an eerie forest. I want to stay for a while and sit quietly in his dreary gravity. “You let me know and I’ll hold you until the darkness fades.”

have one day of dark fairytale bliss?

He’s efficient in that way, at packing people and their things away like crumbs under a rug.