I'm tired of trying. It doesn't even seem like I am, anyway.
"Blood falls," he said, "from those who cannot cry."
I stared at him. I tried to force a smile, but I could not. He did not try. He could.
Now we are at an impasse. The corner is folded around me. My eyes are closed. He is folded around himself.
My arms are bare, purposely outstretched. My skin is unmarked.
"How much longer," he asks.
"Forever." Then I decide to burn it all up. "And never." I look up, and the walls are so white for a moment I cannot breathe. "From the start. Never."
His scars run from his palms to his shoulders, slashing into his sleeves. They are not self-inflicted. Despite that, he understands immediately - intuitively - what I am doing.
"If I got up and left," he says coldly, "would you hurt."
"No." My reply is immediate. With a quick movement, he is on his feet. I am frozen. The distance between us slides away, unregistered. His hand slams into my shoulder, fingers curving into my neck. "Tell the truth!" The room rings.
Would it make sense if I said that it doesn't matter if he was a woman, man, it. Good. I don't say it. It doesn't make sense. I don't write what has happened, it's what is perhaps happening, what will never happen. What cannot possibly happen. What I never want to happen.
She makes a better pretense of it than I do, because she is far more gone than I. She's brilliant.
Oh, and why not...here:
|Your Top Strength|
|Your Second Strength|
|Your Third Strength|
|Your Fourth Strength|
|Your Fifth Strength|