"I hate myself," the girl giggles as she raises the wine cube above her head to get a sip, a gulp, a swallow, a drag.
Dysphoric days were all that lay ahead for her. Could be worse. Could be better. But no, this was fine: just hiccups and headaches and partial seizures and awkward smiles into her only pillow because dammit, her bedroom was the only place she felt safe.
No comments:
Post a Comment