blue. / district three, wip.

We were the lights. And I remember the time when she was everything, when I was stupid, stumbling, and absolutely head over heals.

Romantic love is a concept, I think, something conjured up by a lonely head who wanted some sort of beacon in this terrible world of ours. I do believe in love, between family, friends, but beyond that, it is an illusion. We tell ourselves that we have fallen in love because it justifies our actions- and then we begin to believe our own lie.

Was I in love with Isla Mars?

It would be a lie if I said I was.

I thought I loved her. I told her so every day, and in the nights we would share a bed. In my head, we were the light against the shadow, my shadows, slowly closing in on my mind.

There are no lights anymore. Those left with her.

But I have learned not to fear darkness.

One—

I wish I hadn't been born. But I was. I was born in a suburban house with two parents who looked at their fucked up relationship and thought, "Having kids will fix everything."


Three—

Everything is blurred, like the memories are made up of oil pastels and someone has smeared their hand all across the canvas.

I remember shaking golden lights and screaming across the dining room table. I remember my mother crying over a cardboard box- I asked her what happened, and she said that someone hurt her.

Someone hurt me, too, Mom.

It was that year they divorced-
my mom got herself out, but she couldn't


Five—

ayy

It wasn't always this way,

I used to tell myself.

Until I opened my eyes,
saw the glare of the sun,
and realized that yes, it was always fucking been this way.

[expand]

I didn't know back then. And maybe because I was too young, too innocent, too ignorant to see the monster behind the man. Or maybe I just trusted him too much, let him twist my mind until the very concepts of right and wrong were bent and gnarled.

I didn't know that where my heart, where my insides should be, there was a black hole slowly expanding into infinity.