there is comfort in the unsettling

so you write

you write them broken, you write them human, you write them spitting blood out of bruised lips, sneering and crying.

you write them desperate, you write them lonely in their bathroom, eyes red. you write them with broken mirrors and you write them angry.

you write them like they could be loved, like they are on the edge of being loved, like they could just be loved if they were only to try harder, to be enough.

you write them hated, and hating themselves, you write them ashamed and begging to God, you write them ears ringing. you write them panicked and aching, and yearning and empty.

you write them hungry, you write them with cracked lips.

you write them and you pretend that it’s not you in the pages.

you write them and pray to God yourself, that you’re not being written too.

you write them.

you’re so tired.