She was happy, but in a genuinely raw way. The kind of happiness that grows from the muck. The kind that made her impossible for anything spineless. She has questions that need answering. She wants to know everything. Your stories, your nightmares, about your family and the cities you've visited.
So we talked. And she listened.
Christ, I showed her my soul. Like she was saving me. When, really, she was just going somewhere new, living vicariously through me.
She was terrified of the things she should love, and she loved the things she should be terrified of.
We spoke the same pains.
Who hurts you more than those closest?
Yes, she was twisted, and confused, and not well rested. But she listened.
She listened like time did not matter. And, for once, everything stood still.
Everything except her heart.
That would always be wild, in a genuinely raw way.
A/N: Who does this remind you of? I wanna know. :')
