Therapy doesn’t work like I thought it would. I don’t leave a session crestfallen, but broken, memories on the surface of my mind. But sometimes you need to rebreak something to heal it right. Sometimes the hardest part of healing is rewiring your brain to love yourself.
Every evening at a certain time the fates are delivered a prompt, and with that prompt, they make stories that determine our fate. Some stories are full of laughter, some sorrow, and some things that only the gods will laugh at.
I have a secret if you want it.
It may sound nice to have a soul that is filled with vanity. To love yourself the most of all.
Sounds like a happy existence.
But there are no awards for these selfish hearts in the afterlife.
Be a better ghost.
Thousands of windows
Beat white in the golden sun
Thrumming against the quakes
That erupted the city like clockwork
There, the colossal poleaxe
Threatening in the giant’s hand
Swung an arc 20 floors deep.
The city’s cries were silent in the giant’s ears
For all he heard was his rage
Only let yourself settle when you know you are for sure alone. You never know what is hidden in the dark and the in-between spaces. Yes, there are some things only a witch can see, but you can always trust your own shuddering breath.
The random thoughts she felt flitting through her mind, when she was watching the disaster unfold, didn’t relay to her how gaping the hole between herself and reality was becoming, what she was becoming, and how in a few years she wouldn’t remember herself at all.
She had herself dart into the endless bushes of roses feeling each bite of their thorns tear across her skin and tug on her clothes. There was no choice. She had been stuck in the maze of roses for days now. The only thing left for her to do was to try to break through the rose petaled walls.