not your fucking goddess

i wonder if you grieve me too—if you miss my dissonant laughter or my unruly hair or my stubborn heart. do you regret it? does the closed door haunt you at night the way it haunts me? does the ghost of my smile still linger in your mind? do you feel disappointment when you realize that i no longer seek you out in rooms full of strangers?

just noticed how long my hair’s grown out. how short was it when they left me? i think it was just a little past my shoulder. i can remember what happened like it was yesterday—but looking in the mirror, it's a lifetime ago. my hair reaches the midsection of my back, now, and i've dyed it a warm brown. my reflection's smiling back at me, too. a small movement of a muscle, but still a smile. her eyes are crinkling like they used to before all hell broke loose. i think i'll be okay.

i highkey have a thing for boy hands like i cant decide if i want them or if i want them on me like rough palms defined veins firm grip yes please i want it all

still thinking about how no one could believe i was mentally ill up until my diagnosis.