"Love isn't something you say. Love is something you feel."

I'm sitting on my bedroom floor, the middle of the world, a corner of my universe. I am a being. I am a being.


I'm thinking about today in a retrospective truth. Did today even happen? Was yesterday in my past? I am the beginning. I am the end.


I'm thinking about yesterday in disbelief. I'm unwinding before I can build myself back up. I'm the little girl in the corner of her universe, insignificant to all except herself. I'm the little girl in the corner of her house, the corner of her room, the corner of her mind. I'm unwinding before I can build myself back up.

My throat is sore with the acidic burning of recurring vomit, and my stomach is churning, and my head is spinning in time with the music. It's pouring out of the speakers, it's going to explode, I'm going to explode.

It's been made fairly clear to me by now that screaming and crying does nothing. The most I can do is keep living through this, living through all of the mishaps and mistakes. "It'll pay off one day," they always told me. "It'll pay off when I'm gone," I'd always think.

It paid off.

Waiting a year to find someone better, someone who would care as much, someone who would nurture. Waiting a year for the tears and sadness to end. I'm so thankful. I'm so lost. I'm so helpful. I'm so angry.

I'm shivering in a frenzy of excitement. I am a being. I am a being.


I'm shivering in a frenzy of enlightenment. I am his being. I am his being.