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He’s burning me down to the bone. They’ll find the scar of him on my remains.
My brain tries to tell me I’m an idiot. I tell it we don’t think things like that anymore, and if it’s not going to be a positive part of the team, it can piss off.
I’ve been thinking, lately, that I’d like to stop hating myself forever. I would like to try, anyway. But you know what they say: baby steps.
A voice in my head snaps that my feelings make me weak, but I smother that voice with a pillow and order a Burberry suit for its funeral.
