I don’t have any true words of comfort or inspiration for you, lost reader. I am left with the same tired hopes as you, but here you go anyways. I hope you don’t have as many secrets as me. That you stop sleeping with strangers, unless that’s what helps.
I have held that knife in my hands so many times in the last year. It is my birthright, this tiny little thing. I am the whole of the hundreds who came before me and I am closing out the story now.
When you find someone you feel safe with, this will go away. But you have to work on it too. You have to retrain your mind and body not to associate men with danger.
They say grief’s color is blue. This grief wasn’t blue. Blue is calm. This grief was a bright red. Loud and in my face. It was an endless thing with jagged edges. Blood and glass.
