The Fabric of Our Souls

by K.M. Moronova

My name is Wynn Coldfox. I'm twenty-six years old and I want to die. I want to die. There—I said it.

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

I’m burning inside, and it hurts. I just want to stop hurting.

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

“You should wait… and it doesn’t have to be for anything specific. I’m just saying—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.”

“No—I knew the moment I saw you. You were not to be pitied. Your mind is a beautiful and dangerous thing, Wynn, sick as it may be. But your soul illuminates the world around you, setting all else ablaze with your inevitable anguish.”