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“It took the small words of a small man to motivate you to make great art.”
It gave me hope that loveliness could bloom out of ugliness and scarcity.
I doused it all in bleach. Not just any bleach—highly concentrated oxygen-producing detergent. It causes hemoglobin to degrade, destroying the ability to harvest DNA.
Oh...someone did their research
His happiness displeases me.
The one with the face of an angel and the eyes of a black hole.
I wasn’t fine, but I learned a long time ago that the only options are to fake it or succumb to a complete breakdown.
I’m trying to tell myself that I’m alive, I’m healing. As long as I’m still breathing, I can keep moving forward. Everything can be overcome except death.
Nobody that beautiful can be good, it’s impossible. Power corrupts and beauty warps the mind.
“Absolutely I do. He disrespected you. Put his hands on you. I’d kill him for much less.”
It has a literal physical effect on me when I’m not near her, when I can’t see her.
