I have always been one of the delicate-like girls with bones made of moonstone. I’ve been one of the girls who dream and drink too much, who write poetry on them, who try to carve out the pain, the emptiness, the darkness. I have been the girl with the empty eyes and aching lungs. I have been the sunlight, the beauty, the hope. I have written words and code and dreams.
I have always been one of these girls who love loudly and cry silently.
I’m one of the girls who were promised a throne at the Elysian Fields, if only we would let go. If only…
(Yet the wind still whispers: it’s not over yet, it’s not over…)