west coast ☆ joji miller

14 ; vulnerable

i have never felt so vulnerable.

i was holed up in a cold basketball with nothing but an old mattress and a raggedy, thin blanket. not even a pillow.

i closed my eyes, trying to let sleep seep into my brain but the memories of my mother and i welcomed themselves in instead, causing my eyes to snap open in fear.

i wondered how they killed her. was it soft and gentle, like some pills in her red wine that she sips every friday night while watching her sitcoms with a smile on her face, oblivious to her awaiting fatality; or was it violent? perhaps they stuck a blade into her frail neck, blood coating the pale skin i had learned to love so much. her lung cancer was so young, she could've fought it. she could've won this war. but ian and joji stepped in, ruining it all.

i took in a deep breath, my tongue dry and my heart pounding in my chest like a hammer to a metal nail, or the knocks that came at my apartment door when my mother came over for family parties- it hurt all too much.

mommy, when will the vulnerability end?