“You'll die for saying that,” Sarah reiterates. ‘“You’re bad inside.”
I can’t argue with that. I hate it when Sarah reminds me of the dark, rotting mass that spreads from the secret recesses of my stomach into my chest. The heaviness is like dough that cannot rise. I imagine it smelling like an open sewer. I used to think that if I ate enough, I could hide it under layers of white flesh. But the darkness grew even thicker, like a sticky black asphalt covered with litter. I know it’s an evil that lives inside. It keeps growing bigger, like a curse. I feel trapped and small inside of it. Idon’t know when it began because I don’t remember when I didn’t feel this way. I can’t seem to make it go away. I can’t ever let anyone know it’s inside of me. I try not to notice it. When I do, the darkness makes me feel like dying. I know it’s not normal. It keeps me from fitting in. If anyone likes me, it’s only because they don’t know about the darkness and the smells."
Obsidian Mirror - Louise M. Wisechild
