I thought...

I thought I was special. I thought that there was something in which set me apart from the rest.

She said I should ask. I didn't expect that answer. I didn't expect to be told in such clear terms that I was nothing: just another unremarkable painting in a chipped and charred frame, used to shield, hide, distract. I thought I was more than pastry for the sight, and I wasn't even that. I wish I'd never asked. She isn't in pain. She isn't broken. I should never have asked.

I came out of one depression last week over failing an exam, to fall into another over some human being. I prayed and with the help of God redeemed the grade only to ask a seemingly insignificant question. How glorious it is to fall in a bottomless pit where wounds remain wounds.

It's odd how I've been feeling so down about this. It's odd how I could let this be the doorway for my sadness, my depression when I truly mena that little to you.

I thought....wrong. And apparently it's the norm. Apparently it is fully accepted by all even her. It's the okay thing to do. Okay hurts a lot. I thought some things were scared. I thought I was one of those things. But again I thought wrong.