Brutes

by Dizz Tate

We would not be born out of sweetness, we were born out of rage, we felt it in our bones.

To be loved was just to be watched, or in my case, to imagine you are loved is to imagine you are watched all the time. I preened. I strutted. I imagined he was obsessed with me and so I was obsessed with myself.

I did what I always did, which was to disappear for a few months, then text “miss you!!!!!” with no explanation. I used exclamation points instead of excuses. Perhaps this is why I haven’t made any friends since I was thirteen, and technically, they were my sister’s friends anyway.