Writing

In the early morning I wake. I dress silently and slip out of my sleeping bag. I slowly unzip the tent flap, trying to let my tent mates sleep. The morning air is cold and biting, and a deep fog encases everything around.

if the world were to burn tomorrow morning

i would laugh in its face

because who is dumb enough 

to care about a world

that doesn't care a single bit about them?

truthfully, i don't know.

The atmosphere has a sudden, unshakeable stillness-

Unaware of what has been forecasted.

Children push on swings and frolic through fields.

The calm before the storm.

I am alone, truly alone, alone, alone, alone. 

I am alone.

I am broken.

I am helpless.

I cannot stand back up.

I will never see the daylight again.

Words used to flow easily out of my fingertips,

my pencil effortlessly connected constellations,

as a stream of simple thoughts transferred perfectly onto a page,

but now my mind is mush,

To be a woman,

you have to mask your flaws.

A little girl, upset at the world-

"you're fine," her mother says.

That girl, now eleven,

is picked on by her peers.

"You're fine," her mother says.