I tear out of the front door like my apartment’s on fire and hurry down the sidewalk with no jacket - no shoes - my head down - my hair shrouding my face - like I used to go sit on the front steps of my aunt's apartment when I started to feel like I didn’t exist - letting the snow fall and melt onto my bare head-
-Until my body remembered it needed to try to not die-
I kick a snow drift, scraping my foot against the sidewalk as I do-
And with every trickle of flaming red that runs into the white, I remind myself that I have a very weak stomach.
And I can’t stand the sight of blood.