Tinfoil Butterfly

by Rachel Eve Moulton

I longed to be that horror, the thing he obsessed over for so long that he understood and loved all of its truths and ugly spots and yet still wanted to know more. I wanted to be his muse.

My dad’s point, I think, was that evil doesn’t take people by surprise. In order for it to really get you, a tiny piece of you has to want it.

Every time I meet a new person, I try to decide how long they’ll live if I pick them apart.”

“And madness in its simplest form is narcissism—a self stared at so long and so hard that any potential beauty in it becomes horrifying.”

It’s amazing how quickly people make you into wallpaper.