You're going to marry the first girl you date after me.
She will be quiet and kind.
Not the type of girl who forgets to take her antipsychotic meds or even needs them in the first place.
She'll have mouse brown hair and light eyes.
Her favorite color is yellow.
And you take her on vacations.
Her job title will be something like "business development manager" and she'll have a degree that she got in 2009 from Saint John Fisher College.
Your siblings all will love her and invite her out to lunch.
She'll never tell you she hates herself, that she thinks there's something deeply evil and unforgivable about her.
She won't be afraid of the knives in the kitchen drawer
Or worry you when she doesn't eat.
You won't resent her when she asks you for a glass of water when she's sick
Because she's never sick for long
And her cheeks are rosy and she smiles from beneath the blankets
And you say of course babe,
Her fists won't be full of her own hair.
She hates the taste of tequila.
You'll wear matching outfits in your Christmas photos and
And she'll tell you she's so lucky
And she won't know that I cried in every room she now inhabits
Or that I almost bled to death in the kitchen last July
Or the number of times I begged you not to abandon me.
Maybe you'll fight for her, instead.
You'll never have to fight.
gummygunk
jacobvanloon
dededos
tangentwithtanner
yousharknotpass
pixelskylines
snowghoul
titsay
