I’ll be spending Christmas Eve alone and at home. Maybe I’ll bake something, or watch a movie with my little sister. I thought I’d be with him for the holidays. Things change and i’m left deserted, neglected, and sad. Oh well.
Still, vines paint themselves up my arm, making their way higher, twisting around meaning no harm. I choke on black leaves, falling from higher branches, hiding themselves behind my sleeves. Dieing trees fall to the ground, covering everywhere, with natures crying sound. Crawling up my spine, the horror climbs up my body, little inscriptions telling me I won’t be fine.