I’m starting to think about the meaning of forever.
Or at least your version of forever.
I am someone who seeks refuge in girlhood traumas. Some of these regrets have crystallized into telltale battle scars, markings I carry around like an old medical bracelet. These scars identify my weakness for sharp objects. Once upon a sleep, I dreamed of polished and poised personas crafted by the mystique of Ivory Towers, dimly-lit libraries crammed with intellectual masochists. I constructed an authorial identity out of the preservation of pain. I let my speakers quake with the wounded vows of all the saddest music I could find, poured over the lyrics as though they were guidebooks to self-destruction. For a while, I was the girl who ate darkness.
You think that you know all of me, that you have made it through the fire, traveled to the innermost circles of my neuroses, survived the…
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