#entry;

this wood and string feel familiar. my mentor and colleagues are shocked at how i've managed to quickly go through their tasks with my bow.

i feel somewhat unnerved. the miqo'te and elezen fight over fighting for their home and places they don't belong in, and my hands burn from all the pulling.

it smells a bit like fire and ash. like dirt and soil crisply crusted under fingernails, and the smallest notes of glowing flowers growing from them.

today, i woke up in a bed of flowers-- pink, purple, blue. my whole body hurts, but at the same time, it feels like i was just being held warmly enough to not break.

he blows up jason’s notifications and it’s sweet and I yearn. he does the same to me and I feel like there’s a bus on my chest.

for all my grief they won’t let me out at this point but I have no idea what I’m doing anymore.

I should be obligated to take the high ground and keep my distance by my age alone.

but I’m not going to find anyone near my age that doesn’t have an expiration date a week from now.