we forget that other people
exist.
forget we're not the only ones locking ourselves in bathrooms just to
sit on the tile floor because
we're burning up and it's cool against our skin and because
it's the only place we don't have to
let anyone else in.
we lie awake late into the night with
the moon and all her stars and we
scream into unwashed pillow-cases because
we just want someone to know who we are, want
someone to know we're alive and breathing too rapidly for this time of night,
want someone to hear us and know
we're stirring in our skin and our bones are
alive and
trembling. we are
running with scissors like we're
immortal.
we are eating sweets because
we are sad and we are
burying ourselves six feet deep in blankets and
there's a hole inside our chests growing with every second we
exhale shaking breaths and
it's eating us away so we feed it sugar and hope it will remain at bay,
but you can't just eat cookies and stare at the wall for three hours (34 minutes, 29 seconds)
every t
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