You think any of it matters? The lights on the Christmas tree, falling in love, pressing your thumb into your forearm with so much force that it leaves behind a bruise? I laugh in the face of every new day as soon as the moon disappears and the sun tries to take its place. I chew on the skin around my jagged fingernails and try not to scream at everyone that passes me by. Because what's the point of any of it? What's the point of the violet bruises, the cathedrals, the retching and the gift boxes and the way her eyes light up when she looks at his face? It isn't going to save me, it's not going to save you either. My body aches and it's brimming with repressed screams in every colour and I want to tell him that loving me didn't help me, it made me want to kill myself even more.
h.w
