Monstrilio

by Gerardo Sámano Córdova

To wither is not the same as to break; to break is to have pieces to put back together, and to wither is to dry up, to wilt, to lose bone, to die, and death is the most boring.

There’s a way of believing where one believes and does not believe at the same time.

I kept my apartment full of trinkets that encased moments I believed were worth remembering, a physical accumulation of my life in order to make sure it wasn’t passing by unnoticed.

I needed to break her before she broke me.

My mother thought I was a monster and didn’t love me because of it. This thing, an actual fucking monster, was loved.

what they needed wasn’t acknowledgment or empathy or closure; it was escape.