confessions from a mad girl's diary.
I.
Love is not enough. I still want to tear my skin from the outside in.
II.
I have let my bones get picked apart like carrion. I did it. I bit my nails down to the quick.
III.
Fear is not my mother tongue. I do not speak it. It speaks me.
IV.
This is what I had to tell myself today: I exist. I exist. I am here. This world is not imaginary. Neither am I.
V.
I am not gentle. I am not kind.
Love is not enough. I still want to tear my skin from the outside in.
II.
I have let my bones get picked apart like carrion. I did it. I bit my nails down to the quick.
III.
Fear is not my mother tongue. I do not speak it. It speaks me.
IV.
This is what I had to tell myself today: I exist. I exist. I am here. This world is not imaginary. Neither am I.
V.
I am not gentle. I am not kind.
— Venetta Octavia, What We Left Behind.
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