still thinking about how no one could believe i was mentally ill up until my diagnosis.
the talented kid. the responsible cousin. the eldest sister. the hardworking student. apparently being able to keep up with the curve meant i was healthy and stable.
but who knew wars could be quiet? the soldiers scream their battle cries, gunfire ricochets in my skull, and white phosphorus spreads its fog across my brain. for years and years and years, i have persevered through this famine of quietude.
i am tired of being praised for being resilient. i have been waiting and waiting and waiting for a moment of temporary weakness. for the permission to fall apart. for the glass to shatter, for the melody to turn dissonant. if i am damned to never bask in normality, then may this twisted tapestry of guts and thoughts and insanity be allowed to unravel.












