by dangerlight

Fourteen years! For fourteen years, I have known that I am fucked up. For only a few moments have I tempted the thought that it is not just because I am a bad seed, born with a tornado sewn in her chest.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to write. It goes like this, you know– in spells. But it’s rusty as hell. I’m working on it. See you soon.