the TWENTY FOURTH of OCTOBER, TWO THOUSAND and TWENTY.

is it possible to have a soulmate, when your soul is fragmented and corrupted?
i think my fate is broken. my destiny has been mangled, manipulated, turned into morbidity.
there's a boy who thinks i am his fate. how could i not be, after all?
but in honesty, the boy with the shattered skull under my bed feels more like my fate.
(i remember frantically removing everything from under my bed to accommodate him,
i felt myself suffocating, i couldn't let him suffer too)

but who decides fate? when do you know if it's fate? my fate has changed direction,
it has become blurred, grey and unintelligible. i can't remember what my fate felt like.
pray tell, does fate feel like love? like clarity, like comfort? does everything fall into place?

i fear everything in this godforsaken world.
blades pressed up against my arteries, fists smacked into my jaw, steel-toe boots embedded in my guts...
but there's nothing i fear more than the fact i enjoy it all.
perhaps it's how i coped with the paranoia at age twelve. turn it into a game.
getting them before they get me. getting myself before they get me.
decay drips from everything. i resist the urge to scoop it all up, delicately press it to my lips.
i'm turning into my father.

take me back!