If you have ever read The Host by Stephanie Meyer then you know it ends with "People are strange" with the reply, "The strangest". I hate the Twilight series but loved the werewolf aspect of it. My mom read the Twilight series and forced me to watch the Twilight series with her growing up. I personally love Cassandra Clare books. That's the difference between my mom and I. I give an in-depth analysis of every book I read so I have my own well read opinions while mom enjoy the fandom high. My mom stopped reading fiction books when her church friends thought they were the devil's work. I still read all types of fiction books. I watched The Mortal Instruments: The City of Bones the movie 10 times before I actually started reading Cassandra Clare books. The show Shadowhunters was a poor adaption of the books. No matter what series you read "People are strange" is going to be the overall take away. The Beautiful Creatures series is great because forbidden love is wonderful to read.

Sometimes it's like I am restless. I read book after book. I don't know how to stay still. As though my thoughts are going a mile a minute.
Sometimes it's like times slows down. I like that I get time to myself.
Time to heal. Time to think.
Sometime it's like with all this happiness I want to do on adventures. I want to get out of this town for a little while. I want to get out of my head.
Sometimes it's like I don't know where to start. I am afraid to trust people.

I fell in love with her in college, he wanted to control me with every ounce of his monster-like charm.
She gave me a wild love to fight for, he destroyed my confidence and mocked me for it.
I wanted to escape his hopeless grasp, she gave me a new beginning.
I felt stuck between two worlds. One giving something to live for and the other drowning me in my own depression.
I was leading people with my light and couldn't pull myself out of his perverted sense of reality. The more I faded from him the more he held on tight to what was left. I knew there was nothing left and I stayed out of obligation.

I dreamt about you last night.
And when I woke up to see you weren't here cuddling with me.
I felt alone. But I am okay.

Light blue sky and icy wind blowing on the library.
People passing through and checking out books.

Everyone have their own perspective and everyone exists on some level of consciousness.
People trust some certain group in a way that is part of human nature.
Existing is simple but Trust is difficult.
Trust is something that needs to be earned and nurtured within a friendship or relationship. Trust is peeling away the act and the mask to reveal who you really are which is the most intimate thing anyone can do.
Existing is living in a world that is afraid of realness. Existing is going through life as though each day is a stepping stone.
Which one is harder to do Existing or Trust?

Day one, surrounded by family members who tested positive for COVID.
Day two, read an article the mentally ill being at high risk and freaking out then read an article about vitamin D deficiency which freaked me out even more. Went to the grocery store and bought vitamin D3. Calmed down a little.
Day three, fatigued and had an headache. Took a nap then started sneezing a lot. My mom got worried about me because she tested positive for COVID.
Day four, I developed a sore throat and everything seemed louder than normal. I tested positive for COVID. I called my boss and told her I couldn't work tomorrow.
Day five, I started coughing and my lungs felt like someone scooped my insides with a spoon vigorously.
Day six, all of my muscles were aching and my nose was running.
Day seven, I never got a temperature just my body tempt going up and down basically shivering to overheating.
Day eight, headache gone and muscle aches gone. Started breathing better.
Day nine, took a nap and felt a little better.
I feel better my nose is running less each day and coughing hurts less. I am not contagious anymore.

The Taste of ***** burns the throat.
The Taste of ***** mixed with soda is a luxury.
Sure it's strong but so am I. I can't get drunk off of it because my metabolism is too fast.
The Taste of ***** it's gives a buzz.
The Taste of ***** it's not liquid courage just another high compared to my mood swings.
Sure it's one of the things normal people get drunk off of, good for them. Try having natural happy high then crashing into sadness lake. It *****. It feels like being Icarus.

I didn't ask for people to love me without conditions or to be obsessed over.
I didn't ask for people to write my name on their hearts.
I didn't ask for people to sing my praises and worship the ground I walked on.
I didn't ask for people to care about me or think about me, they just did.
I didn't ask for my wars to be fought for me. I am a warrior for my own cause.
I didn't ask for my mother or sister to steal my voice away because I had my own thoughts for my future.
I didn't ask for anything that happened in my past.
I didn't ask for conflicts that had nothing to do with me.

Last night. I dreamt of you.
Last night. The white wine burned going down my throat.
Last night. I was wondering if you are okay.
Last night. My mind kept drifting back to you.
I kept thinking of your lips upon mine.
I kept thinking of your beautiful dark blue eyes and your smile.
I kept thinking about us.

As Macbeth once said, "Hell is empty and all the devils are here."
We are all fighting our own demons trying our best to get through day by day, night by night.
At wits end to infuriating madness trying to be better than what we once were.
I was once a grief stricken poet turning pain into poetry.
Now I am a beloved poet making sense of my past loves through poetry. So I can be a better lover for whoever comes next in the future.

One roof, lots of rules. Several rooms so many mental triggers.
Outside the house is freedom and laws. No one to watch every move.
It's Your Life Now Live, Our siblings are living lives separate from mom's grasp on our futures. We can escape every now and then.
It's Your Life Now Live, I know her rules are strict but someday will get out of this town. Whoever you become just let me support whatever you do. I am your big sister so I don't care what mom says you are amazing to me. As long as you are reasonable with you become I will do everything in my power to protect you.
It's Your Life Now Live, We are both creative so let's make the most of it. Don't get high too often. I will notice. Mom won't.
My little sister, I love you. There I said it. I don't say it often enough. I looked after you all of these years. Sure no one understands in our family why we chose our passions except our older brother. Being weird have perks.

The Mystery Girl really likes me and I really like her.
Those dark blue eyes and how the fire inside of me seems to burn brighter when I am around her.
I forget how speak when I am around her. It's like this warm spreads across my body then my mind goes blank. My heart beats faster when I am around her and my pulse rushes a mile a minute.
I tend to lose myself in her eyes then it feels like it's just her and I. Now I just need the courage to ask for her number or give her mine.

I finally said goodbye to my abusive ex boyfriend. It hard to fall asleep at night but eventually it will get easier. I have a fresh start.
I feel joyful again. I feel like me again and I haven't been me in a long time. I don't feel trapped in the routine of him and I. I forgot what it was like to be happy and excited to hangout with my real friends.
I forgot what it was like to be without him. Yes I am damaged but I am free. My mind feel clearer and my heart is full of light again.

The Girl with Green Eyes is back in town. I expected her to be back in town sometime. It's just seeing her again makes me soft as if my heart warms inside my chest and I can't help myself by smiling like a dork.
Hugging her again reminds me of the good old days where we were the power duo of the church. We still are the power duo of best friends going on two different paths. She is still an idiot that sings like an angel and she is still beautiful to me. She is a good person and I know her heart as though it's my own. I don't hate her and I never hated her. It's just she is everything I am not. She blends into this small religious town, she is the poster girl of worship band, she is popular because everyone loves her and she is agreeable.
In this town we are a package deal you can't have one without the other. Sometimes I am envious of her because she is the picture perfect straight girl that makes me less lonely at church and I can't lose her. Not yet. She is just so predictable and I can't help myself by falling for her charm in a platonic way. She is my weakness maybe it's because she helped me overcome my stage fright, my fear of being second best and my fear of being abandoned. She never gives up on me and I believe in the good within her.
She apologized for being a **** to me last summer and I deleted the text because I was still angry at her. I forgive her now because I know she depends on me to be her hero when I am a rebel with trust issues. She is always there when I needed her and I am always there for her when she needs me. That's what best friends are for. Maybe it's because we have been best friends for 9 years and I know hurting her would feel good for 5 seconds but not worth losing her for a lifetime.

The Desire to kiss her.
The Desire to know her.
The Desire to be with her.
The Desire to prove the world wrong show people what true love really is.
Love is without gender roles. Love without hidden agendas. Love without regard to ability. Love is about effort. Love is about being a dork to voice intentions. Love is about stepping outside the comfortable to do something idiotic for the purpose of selfless courage.
Love is like magic it always comes at a cost. Love isn't easy because if love was easy everyone would have it but they don't.
Love requires loyalty, your broken self, honesty, authenticity, good communication, vulnerability, accountability and the truth of your feelings.

The conversations. The casual exchange of numbers.
The smiles and laughter. The shared glances.
Swapping stories and fun reactions.

Blues and greens
Lighting appearing
The small town surrounded by gray clouds
No cars on the roads
Everything is louder in the Thunderstorms

I will only say this once The Girl with Green Eyes can have her perfect life just without me to save her. I was always her hero. To her I was the perfect vulnerable girl who she could rebuke.
Am I crazy? Yes. Am I beautiful? Hell yeah! Do I need The Girl with Green Eyes? Hell no! She needs me to keep her life interesting and I am sick of her act. I always supported her at choir concerts, musicals and recitals. She always forgot that I existed until we started praying together and singing in praise band together. I am not the only crazy one in the friendship. She abandons anyone who sins more than she does. She patronize and Christianize anyone she can't control. She got a rare cancer while I was in college. She once told me how her doctor visits went.
She never gave up her ego, envy, selfishness and jealousness so she isn't perfect. She wonders why she is empty when she should be wondering why she gave up on people who could have redeemed her. Checkmate princess.

When she loved me I knew I would always love her back.
When she loved me, passionate kisses and her dark blue eyes gazing into my dark brown eyes.
When she loved me, I remember how soft her skin felt.
When she loved me, us exchanging smiles.
When she loved me, I remember us taking turns smiling into each passionate kiss.

Most people are like glass, transparent and fragile.
Glass is of many colors and designs like people.
As though the secrets behind the glass are just plays compared to the pictures on display.
Secrets are the poison of the world. Anyone can make them. Anyone can hurt anybody. I see right through them and observe their behaviors. I discern the characteristics and know the problems that surround them.
Looking through Glass if you know what to look for.

Growing up make believe worlds and narratives were my escape from reality. Movies and books had me by the heart.
I tried my best to ignore my mother's abuse with pretending like her calling me worthless most nights didn't hurt, playing Pokemon to be ****** in a world where I was a hero to all, using my talents to gather a crowd that would care about what I did, being disciplined by other adults at daycare because mom was working and dad letting us travel Illinois.
I hate pretending because I want everything to be realistic. I know surprising coming from a writer. Money have always been a problem with my family. I never got everything I wanted which was probably a good thing. Growing up in a rich Christian small town my family didn't follow trends. I got hand-me-downs from my older sister and I still do. My older siblings were spoiled by our parents while my little sister and I had to be resourceful, intelligent, mature, always two steps ahead of our parents and planning each day accordingly. Being middle class Americans isn't the worst. My atheist friend says that I am spoiled even though no I am not. My older siblings got to go to the colleges of their dreams on scholarships while my little sister and I had to go to a local college. My childhood best friend says that I know everyone in town even though I had to learn to be a social butterfly because of my extroverted family through experience. Social skills are keys to thriving in religious small town where being poor is frowned upon and being rich is expected. I may not be normal but I am weird enough to create my own tribe of trusted friends and allies.

As you can see he affects me every now and then.
It's my story not his.
He is the abuser and I am the victim.
He knows he is a monster and I want him to live in his guilt.
I shouldn't write about him so much but those things had to be said.
I didn't want to feel alone anymore.
Information among poets and readers is sacred.
He may be my friend but he deserves to have his secrets somewhere so I chose here.
We dated for a week, 3 years ago.
It's my story not his.
In a way this is justice.

When I loss my best friend at 15 years old, 6 months later I attempted suicide. I felt as though no one else could fix me or even fill the spiritual hole in my heart.
As if no one could understand the pain I felt.
As if the aching grief pounding at my heart was going to swallow me whole.
My family members were asleep and I had a pocket knife out.
I kept staring at my wrist but I couldn't do it.
It was like my best friend held my wrist and I thought about all of the good people in my life. So I placed the pocket knife away and turned out my bedroom lights. Then I cried myself asleep.

Many people do know it.
Many people have experience it.
Something that is freeing, unfiltered, light-hearted, smiles and laughter.
Something bubbly, talkative, kind, caring, thoughtful, too smart for their own good and a low-key comedian.
Yes this a part of me. Where there is darkness, there is also light.
I know so I am the who have to manage both sides.

Ten years ago. I went trick or treating with my first boyfriend.
We held hands and got lots of candy.
The funny thing is he turned out gay and I turned out bisexual.
I broke up with him on Christmas break.
He told me that I was the only girl he ever loved.
I loved him too. I felt safe and comfortable around him.
But I knew he wasn't the one for me.

Love is gentle like a cool breeze on a summer day.
Love is strong like arms wrapped around you like a hug.
Love isn't always forever but it is worth it.
Love is sweet like a deepened kiss
Love is passionate like a love confession years later.
Love is affectionate like being told I love you years later.
Love is indescribable.

My ex-boyfriend thinks that I am the only person who can make him feel happy. He doesn't give anyone at his work a chance because he hates everyone he meets.
He thinks because I follow my parents rules that I am too much of an angel. He let me pick the places to hangout at. He means well and my parents don't know that he is emotionally abusive. My siblings like him. They just think he is a sweet guy.
I haven't told anyone because my family likes him since he is my friend.
I haven't told anyone because I don't know how to break the news to them.

It was 3 years ago. It was a night of passion.
My lips collided with hers and the world slipped away.
Ripping off each other's clothes.
Loving gazes and joyous smiles. Skin again skin. Soul against soul.
Every kiss in effortless abandonment of what is and what was.
That Night with Her was the best night of my life.

I own My Madness not the other way around. It doesn't control me anymore. I am medicated with prescribed by psychiatrist, drugs. I am still trying to find the right therapist.
My Madness is why I write. There is no other way to explain it. I remember when I was in my psychosis I called myself, Eurosia.
Bouncing between that personality and my usual personality was rough on me. I didn't want my name when I was in my psychosis.
I thought it told myself my name is Eurosia it would erase my dramatic, emotionally charged messy past but I was still me, Brandi the Brave. The girl who became a perfectionist at eleven.
My Madness drove me to do crazy things for love and validation. I never scared anyone more than the people I fell for. Slowly over time my love for people became platonic, romantic, and familial. I trained myself to bring myself back to reality by listening to music and counting past ten when it got too wild even for me.
My Madness made me the talk of the town ever since I was 7 years old. Being labeled mentally disabled used to make me feel worthless then I realized it meant I had to learn at my own rate however fast or slow.
My Madness, my cross to bear.

I can feel the fire raging inside of me.
I keep it bay by journaling and writing poetry.
Yet the fire rages because I am sick and tired of hiding in the closet.
The fire rages because I want to tell them there is more to life than just chastity and purity culture.
The fire rages because I want to tell them how satisfying and amazing it is to kiss a girl.
But I know they will never understand because they are ignorant to the truth and spirit that thrive in the lgbtq community.

I saw you across from me at choir class in the 6th grade. I fell for you.
The popular choir girl. You blended in so well in this small town.
You told me that I was "brutally honest" in the 7th grade.
My mom didn't understand my obsession with you. You met my best friend with storm blue eyes in the 8th grade. We sang in Praise Band together in the 8th grade. I still don't understand why you were jealous of my best friend.
In freshman year of high school I loss my best friend. You were there for me. We got close.
In sophomore year of high school we went to homecoming together. You looked stunning, we had fun.
In junior year of high school I trusted you with my anxiety and depression.
In senior year of high school we graduated together.
In freshman year of college I came out to you and you rebuked me.
In sophomore year of college I tried talking to you about girls and you shut me down.
In junior year of college my mood swings were drastic and I told you nothing. I dropped out of college during the COVID-19 breakout, my depressive episodes happened when I had exams.
Now we don't hangout anymore. I still know who you are and I remember everything you love. I trusted you. Do you miss me? When people mention me do you even bother to say we are still "best friends"? What do those two words mean to you? You rather be praised by others than be loved and cared for by me. That's your hubris.

When I read whether it's non-fiction or fiction I analyze it from a writer's perspective. I am studying my life because there is so much I don't know and I am always curious.
Every book I read I learn more about myself. I enjoy reading about mental illnesses. I am learning so much that I can't stop writing poetry. I am processing, healing and growing.
It's like digging deeper within to find what I can live without.

I know life makes everyone busy.
Life makes heroes spout out lies and villains monologue about truths.
Deep Down no one is perfect.
Deep Down there is no flawless human. Humans collect secrets over the years. Humans are afraid of their past selves. Humans can't look in the void of darkness without losing their minds of the silence.
Humans betray and abandon each other because popularity tempted them to throw everything they hold dear including their feelings.
Deep Down no one is 100 percent good and no one is 100 percent evil.
That is lie and a myth that humans create to degrade themselves.
Deep Down the insane are free of society's chains and the sane live in comfort of their prisons.
Deep Down the mask is facade of lost dreams and the cloak is to hide emotional scars.

I am Taking chances to figure out who from my work I feel comfortable trusting.
I am Taking chances because I know eventually I have to get out there. I can't spend life alone forever.
I am Taking chances because I am fearless and brave. I am who I am and no one can ever change that.
I am Taking chances because I know someone out there will value who I am.

The sound of pen against paper. It's like two lovers continually making love. An endless symphony of Ink Against Paper.
The Whoosh of the pen with each word. The growl of the paper.
The pen catching it's breath then returning to the paper. The smooth, gentleness of the pen and the fragile, firmness of the paper.
New worlds created with pen and paper. Business deals with pen and paper. Starting a job with pen and paper. Getting medical treatment begins with pen and paper. Beginnings are Ink Against Paper.

I keep seeing shadows. One moment they are there the next moment they are gone.
Some days I feel like I am losing my mind. Other days I feel like the loneliness is eating me alive. My life is healthy. I hangout with my friends at the Coffee Shop, once a week. I hangout with my family, all the time. I have friends at work who I hangout with twice a week.

I am used to being in role of victim. Having my energy ****** out of me by dark forces isn't fun.
Having my heart drained of love and warmth till there is nothing for me. Every shower I try to get rid of the feeling of awfulness that comes with being an empath. I want to care too much, love too much and be the imperfect me. I can't do that when parts of me that I enjoy caring for are exhausted, tainted and impure with emotions of others.
I can't function when I don't have all of my wits and strengths.
I can't function when I lose my mind.
I can't function when I am not all there.
I envy people who can socialize without feeling like you aren't enough for the crowds. I don't trust many and unconditionally love few. I am not perfect and I don't try to be perfect.

Young people chattering in Coffee Boy's coffee shop wondering who I am and glancing at me as though I am some sort of wonder.
While I drink my cold brew with vanilla sweet cream. I knew they were talking about because everyone couldn't stop looking at me and I have sensitive ears. Ever since I broke things off with my ex-boyfriend I seem to be the talk of the town. Coffee Boy is happy that I am coming back to his coffee shop. We are good friends, Coffee Boy and I. Coffee Boy never really liked my ex-boyfriend sure he joked with us about him and I hanging out as friends. But when I explained things to Coffee Boy he understood. My ex-boyfriend Ken hated everyone including his own family. I didn't like how obsessed Ken was with me. Coffee Boy always respected me and valued my creativity. Ken called the coffee shop seeing how I was and Coffee Boy told him not to come because I was there.

The church or my sanity.
I would prefer to keep my sanity.
The people I work with are like my family.
I am already distant from my church friends anyways.
I believe in Jesus, The Holy Spirit and God.
It's just if they can't accept that I am bisexual then they don't accept me. My work family accepts me and that's enough.

It happens every year. Stores all decorated for Christmas.
People spending money on expensive gifts.
It is romantic the Christmas Walk.
There is hot chocolate. A Christmas tree lighting.
All kinds of singing. All before Christmas.

I am still the same me. Poetic, strong, smart and brave.
My new job has less drama than working at a gas station.
I am working at a thrift store. Much better than a gas station.
My coworkers are fun to hangout with.
And I love my job. Nothing is better than that.

Long ago I had panic attacks every fall and spring.
Long ago my depression would act up during winter and summer.
Long ago I thought I only had anxiety and depression because it's most common in middle schoolers.
Long ago I thought my manic episodes and my panic attacks coexisted together because I was the broken hearted writer who nobody could fix.
Long ago I thought during college I only ever got depressed because my academics were getting more difficult for me.
Long ago I thought during high school that my closest friends called me weird, crazy, silly and smart because of my anxiety got me into awkward conversations with my church friends because only my creative, genius friends could understand my nonsense.
Long ago for every cross country meet I would get nervous.
Long ago I didn't know that I have bipolar disorder and schizophrenia.
Long ago I didn't need to be fixed because I needed to be medicated for my mental illnesses.

I was used to being wooed by my ex-boyfriend. He wanted my heart but I wanted friendship. He wooed me with books, a t-shirt, roses and Pegasus fudge even coffee yet I never changed my mind.
I was adamant that my heart didn't belong to him. He hated that so he constantly insulted me, called me a ***** and a **** for his own pleasure. The more I faded away from him the more he begged for my heart to be his. I said no to his half-assed proposals, his demeaning love confessions, his wants of *** and his desire to be more than friends because I deserve true love.
There was no spark and no warmth.
It's my first year of not being wooed by him.
It's my first year without him. I am content without him. I am happy without him. I am me without him.

The Reality is my big sister and big brother used to hold the family together. Now the responsibilities are passed down to my little sister and I. Sometimes I have no idea what I am doing but trying my best to keep the family together. I didn't know that it would be so much work and so complex.
My big sister and my big brother made the responsibilities look so easy maybe it's because they are natural socializers. Or maybe I have more social development to do. My family is dysfunctional and complains about each other when the other isn't around.
My little sister and I have mental illnesses which makes socializing ******* both of us. My big sister and big brother may seem perfect but they aren't. They are human like me. They were spoiled with attention, love and affection while I knew I was loved since I was child it's just attention and affection weren't a given to me like it was to them. The Reality is I had a somewhat good childhood with my little sister alongside me. I am rebellious, resourceful, resilient and brave. It takes a lot to be all that.

The fake conversations, the empty knocking on the chest, people trying to get surface chit chat out of the way and awkward pauses waiting to leave.
The ticking of a clock as someone talks about their true love as if it's going to last forever. They talk about what their lover does not their lover's characteristics. They talk about where their lover got the ring from not their lover's devotion to them as if it's by human connection.
People forget that most married straight couples are in empath/narcissist relationships, toxic, abusive and controlling relationships. Hallmark paints the typical Christian romance no matter how recycled the cliche' relationship is in an ever changing culture. The swallow your feelings and look happy culture of Christianity with the patronizing lectures about being virtuous and godly individuals when the mold is framed with sins.
The church is full of gossipers, narrow minded, conservatives and the invisible hierarchy of Christian people.

When I am at war with someone with my wits. I find that most are just princesses begging for attention and are just pawns to their parent's plans. It's boring how easy it is to defeat them because I am a queen because I never needed a prince nor a king. I never defeated them with gossip, I defeated them with words and actions.
Where as they depended on their army, I depended on my intelligence. Those princesses were scared of my insanity.
I always evolved better than before. They were focused on devouring lies and I stuck with the truth. Where as they were cunning, I was caring. See the difference. Life was never about popularity, the status quote nor the power that comes with the crowd. Life have always been about the army you develop yourself, the allies you gave kindness to you in their weakest moments and the heart you forge from the depths of hell. In a way never pretending to be the hero makes you a hero because the cape was always the heart you forge.
The gilded armor always hides a monster that is scared of true intelligence. So scare them good. Make them wish that they never crossed you in the first place.

To hear the phrase, "They can smell fear" repeatedly which implies human can smell fear is a myth.
Wolves, dogs, lions and cats can smell fear which is true.
Humans can see fear in body language, tone of voice, the way a person breathes and in the way eyes move.
Humans can sense fear with the gazing of the eyes because the eyes reveal everything.
Humans acting confident and actually being confident are two totally different things.
Humans are inclined to benefit of the doubt, nervousness, socially awkwardness, believing in humanity too much and believing in humanity too little.
The Scent of Desperation is the trembling of the hands, the waver in the voice, the heavy breathing and the wobbly walk.

As most abusers like to put their victims in the honeymoon phase.
Then the sweet guy that you meet becomes a monster come night time.
He doesn't consider your mental health and he doesn't consider your emotional health. It's always him, him but never you, you.
He needs you to be an enabler of his gaslighting abilities.
He needs you to be anxious about his anger.
Always being scared of the monster behind the nice guy mask.
He doesn't care about how many times you say no to his marriage proposals or how many times you shrug off his affections knowing they aren't real.
He wants you to have no boundaries but you establish them anyways hoping to be secure in enforcing them. He still wants all of your attention while ******* up to your better angels.
He doesn't understand that when you can't trust someone there is nothing to build off of except the trauma he gives.
He doesn't understand that he don't know the act of love because of his selfishness. He only understands that if the spotlight is on him then better make a good show.

5 years ago. She loved me speechless.
Her lips upon mine.
Clothes off. Passion to Passion.
Warmth to warmth.
Every smile and caress, genuine.
She whispered in my ear," You look better shirtless."
By dawn of morning I rested against her bare chest listening to her wild heartbeats.
As we got our clothes back on a couldn't help but stare at her. Then I went to back to bed. She kissed my forehead goodbye.
As I woke up in the morning overwhelmed by new strength and emotions.
I knew I would see her at college. My ears were ringing of her heartbeat on repeat. So I drank coffee and listened to music. The coffee taste better. My music sounded sharper and crisper as if every note had a new meaning.