maybe it'll end, if you're good enough. that's what you tell yourself. maybe if you're holy and gentle and pure, maybe if you do everything right, maybe if you're perfect and docile like a loyal dog, like a lamb to the slaughter. there has to be a reason it hasn't ended yet. maybe the reason it hasn't ended is you.
you dress yourself in soft pinks. you file down your claws. you blunt your fangs. you can be good enough. you're holy, holier than all the others. you pray every single day and then maybe a little more for good measure. you scream and cry to Him and beg for salvation.
it's not enough. you cast aside your individuality, your desire for freedom, your morals and independence. it'll hurt less if you do. you won't have to wonder if any of this is right, if it's okay to make you suffer, and then beg for forgiveness for ever thinking such awful things. to become Him, you must accept Him. accept anything He wants. you can't feel hurt, unless that's what He wants. you can't complain, unless that's what He wants. you can't lash out, unless unless unless—
it's not enough. it's never enough. did He not make you to be good enough? why would He make someone He couldn't love?
no. no, He has to love you. it has to be enough. you dress in soft pinks. you file down your claws. you blunt your fangs. you become holy.
