Whalefall

But we both know how it goes - I say I want you inside me and you hold my head underwater, I say I want you inside me and you split me open with a knife.

𓄌

I kissed your cheek in front of them all and in doing so, I think
that I damned the both of us. You, to be left crucified and bleeding and paying for my sins. Me, to be left wandering and wanting and never to see your face again.

Richard Siken. Crush 𓄼𓄹 K Wright. Judas

[ best read with black background
smallest size times new roman ]

MENTIONS OF DEATH.

I didn't know how to answer the question.

Within my entire selection of phrases I had perfected and tested time and time again, I hadn't been able to get a grasp on this response. Nothing seemed right, I'm fine always sounded too blank, others expecting some sort of edition that never came. I'm getting by invited much too many open conversation tangents about psychic mediums and spending the rest of my day down at confession, assuming that a God was willing to listen to my grief. I usually found that ignoring the question all together was easiest, because then they would move onto my mother, Andrea, as I fiddled with Cecilia braids when she accompanied me.

Even after an entire year, I had no-fucking-clue on how to answer the question.

How are you?

None would add on the additional sentence which is what made this question impossible for me to comprehend, let alone grasp a coherent enough answer which would satisfy the asker. Truthfully, the person which would utter the question, didn't care enough to hear the answer. More-so, they would plaster on a fake frown of sympathy and play the part of concerned neighbor, attentive teacher, considerate family friend; so that when they would get drunk on too much red wine during book club later, they could finish the part and earn a pat on the back from each of their friends. You're so kind to speak to her, ask her how's she doing. How sweet of you to check in. What a saint!