W(a/o)rrior.

i feel like i've just lived through a war. i no longer recognize myself. the impulses, the heightened emotions, the scars and wounds on my face and legs. now for the first time i understand the cutters, sex addicts and alcoholics. oh, how ironic! but also anything to feel anything other than this. like in "high fidelity" when she crawls into her ex's car on the night of her dad's funeral, because she needs to feel something different than the emptiness and pain. and so i apply the same principles.

P. used to call me 'dievcatko'. his speech was full of diminutives: cukricek, pusinka, zlatinko. and the way he'd kiss my forehead was almost selfless. as if he could save my whole world in that one little kiss. as if he could cover me under a blanket, hide me away from it all and make sure i never felt pain again. as if... as if. yet, somehow i feel like i've grown into that title over time. 'dievcatko'. because i am only 5 again. as if.