I want the bad, the things we shouldn’t want. The truths we shouldn’t have to know.
I want to be torn down to my core. To understand this infinity perched between my lungs.
With minor cracks and fissures, nothing more than a narrow, biased view is afforded. The infinity within me, while smaller than most, seems endless and unrelenting in its torturous telling of a girl too scared to move. Too scared to act. Too scared to say anything despite the innumerable words that fall from her lips.
I need to hold the weight of the world, turning it over in my hands, studying its every layer. I need to be struck down by its impossibility. Understanding finally, that the hurt is never ending while we perpetuate it’s reeling.