Leather steel toed boots, black lace skirt, ivory silkk top and black leather gauntlets. Emerald eyes, crimson ring. I have not made myself into this, it is who I am the me I have found long ago and I am comfortable.

In, in on the outside, I will never let you near as much as I desperately want to. Know me. Try. Ask the right questions and feign interest if you even get so far as the story.

Only as I write this do the words find a purchase, yet they still teeter on nothing. I want to say everything, yet these days words betray me. There is no release. I know who I am I know what I want I know that there are no words I know…

I know that I love you, and I will never be able to tell any of you how much.


21 years. A call at work when I was 17. Somewhere around there.
Twenty one fucking years, and I am still alive. Somewhere around there.
I am still alive, and most importantly, everyone else is. Everyone else is perfectly healthy.


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