Dear skin,
I'm sorry about the contact that was made with his own skin. I swear I did not give him my consent.
Truthfully, he scarred you but I also did.
I'm sorry for the damage that you bravely tolerate with. You are stronger than I'll ever be. The bruises, cuts and non-consensual love bites are all proof of that. You have handled it all so well. Thank you.
But I can't take it anymore. I just want it to stop. I can't even look at anyone in the eyes anymore. I lock myself in my house, ignoring the unstocked fridge, rancid food and uncleaned rooms. I cry myself to sleep while the demons in my head blossom. The smiles that I force are fake and so are my "I'm okay"s but I still convince myself that they are not.
YOU ARE READING
EPHEMERAL
Historia Corta[ inspired by twirlingwands' 'pithy' ] SHE WAS SORRY FOR THE INFLICTION DONE TO HER TEMPLE, THOUGH IT WAS NOT HER FAULT.
