Don’t waste your time on those fuckers who don’t know what you are.” “And what am I?” That’s the logical question, right? That’s what I was supposed to ask because I’m not really sure. I’m not sure if I’m even breathing. Or forming the right words or putting them in the right order. I’m not sure of anything except this man in front of me. This man who just defended me to the entire world. And he’s staring at me with a burning gaze as he rasps, “Something made of moon and magic.”
