— verlust
hiding.
(and she’s thankful for it.)
because at times, in moments of burning, blinding sobriety, where the pain of a shattered jaw and bruised body flare, there is nothing that takes her breath away more than the pain of being—yes, being, because saying that she’s living at this point would be a fucking joke--a searing scarlet stroke of disrespect to those who’d died truly living, moving forward, glowing, loving, being loved…
( appa. celena. the corpses, so many corpses… so many without names… )
and so she hides, she needs to hide. because if jinri doesn’t, she’s sure she’ll begin to shake; to shake with the thought that she’s absolutely certain, that between all the lives she stole and let slip between her fingers there’s more than one that should’ve taken the murky spark that life left her with--that in her hands, is nothing but a waste, the belonging of a weak, useless, ugly, hopeless monster of a girl.
the truth stands so stagnant, that even behind opiated optics, it stinks, filling the space of her hollowed mind like the stench of everything the human body is meant to hidden. she withdraws everything into herself, the salt, the copper and squeezes with all her might; hiding, always hiding, pulling on the same front of “okay” that she’s worn since january. hoping, that no one will stare too avidly at its glaring holes; praying, if she wraps it around herself tight enough, she’d be able to be some sort of pillar for her loved ones. or maybe, some sort of shield.
because she wants to believe she'd break herself, pierce skin with bone, if it means shaping herself into something strong.
because she thinks, if she loses someone else, she'll never know anything outside of this clinging fear ever again.
because if that ever happens, she knows, the solitude that always waved at her though her father's slipping shadow will finally grip her by the neck; and if that ever happens, she'd rather it snap it.