something i wrote on my wrist today

mypeterpancomplex:

frogsandcrowns:

The wind was so raw i felt it rush right through my body as if i was a ghost. The empty tree branches made criss-cross patterns on the sky like scars. The mist felt like cold fingers on my hands.

“I don’t want to go to heaven”

“What?”

She has her face to the wind, her hair in tangles. Her face is smudged with rain and something that might be tears. She’s wearing a patchy fur coat that makes her look even smaller than she is. She’s bitten her lip so hard that the teeth marks stand out white on her lips and she’s drawn blood that makes her lips almost redder and sticky.

“If this i what it’s like to live in the clouds, i don’t want to go to heaven”.

“No”

“It’s not real, anyway. No escape is real”

I felt like crying for this misfit, so obvoiously wrong for this world.

“I’m sorry”

“It’s not your fault”

But she doesn’t mean it and we both know it is.