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The world needed more warriors.
Depression was a fickle fucker.
I let out an excited whoop complete with a handclap and a little jig. And these boys thought I was childish? Grown ass mature woman right here.
If we changed the way we behaved, changed the societal norms for humanity, then we were screwed. People would do anything if they became desperate, including acts they once had deemed atrocious.
There was no comparison to our pain, despite what people may believe. You couldn’t possibly look at someone and deem that their pain was somehow less than yours. That wasn’t how pain works.
The world could be a dangerous place when your own mind was against you.
“What exactly did she tell you our names were?” “Ryley, Callie, Ashley, Tammy, Rowena, Destiny, and Felicia.” He tilted his head to the side thoughtfully. “I mean, I wasn’t going to judge you or anything. You be you, man.”
If she wanted to play a game, I could play. And bitch? I never lost.
Love, I’d come to realize, wasn’t perfect.
We were a mess. We were broken and fucked up. So we laughed. We laughed because it was the only way to hide the scars. We laughed because we weren’t okay, and we probably never would be. We laughed because we were two tortured souls who just happened to find each other. We laughed because we longed to be happy again. And the laughter actually kind of helped.
