The mirror stares me down with a face I don’t remember, the face of a disguise, all hidden but my eyes. The mirror stares me down, tries to tell me who I’ve been. They say that it tells lies. They say it’s in my mind.

My mind knows every detail, every part of who I am. The versions of myself that I’ve drawn across my hand. But I don’t know my mind. Or what’s left of it to find—the tattered fabric...

“NO—“ Byron hopelessly thrusts his body towards me against the grip of the guards. And now his face is wet, and his eyes are blurry.

And the arms of the guards are solid. Too solid next to the broken facade of Byron. Byron who never sheds a tear. Byron who stayed stone-faced until the end. It wrenches my gut, tears my heart into rough-edged shreds.

I sob his name as the guards wrestle him backw...

“I don’t know about this.” Maisie looks uncomfortable but follows me nevertheless.

We pick our way through the worn trail, littered with uneven rocks. “I do. I want this.”

I’m ready now. I wasn’t ready, before, but now I understand that I have to do it.

The trampled dirt gives way to craggy ground and the drop off comes into view. A stab of uncertainty hits me for the first time. But I push it...

It feels like most people want beauty. Love the things that excite the eye, that stand out, that feel unreal. For me, it’s different. The word ‘beautiful’, it feels uncomfortable to me. Newness and surprise, color and wonder, don’t comfort me. I find my comfort in the most basic things, the old, tired things, the unremarkable. The parts of the photo that eyes shift over, mine rest there. The dry g...

I stand numbly in the freezing air. The cold wind taunts me, brushing my skin with the sting of winter. My cheeks must be red, irritated. The sky might be beautiful, moonlight cast through the bare branches above, if I was looking at anything. But I’m not, really. I’m not looking at anything. My body belongs to a faded statue, rooted to the ground in the middle of the night. I feel the snow throw ...

The truth that I tell you is this: I got out of bed. Which took only a moment. Unless you really want to know. Want to know the weight of the metal chains that tug when I force my body from its only reprieve. A reprieve that is lost, to the abyss and to the twisted version of my life that runs through my dreams. Maybe I would tell you what it’s like to look around and realize that I’m still alive....

My voice wouldn’t work. I’d thought about bringing it up so many times before, but actually doing it would make it all real. And I didn’t know what I would do if… he gave me the truth. I know the darkness that falls over his face when he thinks no one is watching, because it’s the same darkness that chokes me tighter every day. Maybe a different shade; the kind bred from a pit of grief. But darkne...

I am but a puzzle

Broken apart before the lid was lifted

By unknowing hands

For years the wrong parts

Forced unto each other

Jammed into ideas of the image on the box

Always undone or forcibly bent

The empty gaps lost beneath the table

Desperately destroyed

And redone

And destroyed once again

The ticking of the clock begins to fade

And the hands are older

Fingers maybe stronger

But it is not was...

Maybe the best thing about him is that I don’t feel like I need to try around him. I don’t need to force words out of my mouth, or over analyze his reaction to what does make it out. I mean I’ll overthink things regardless, but it’s just… alright to overthink around him. Because he knows that I’m always doing it. And he doesn’t judge me for it. At least based on the number of times he’s said that,...