batgirlapplepie

you pulled me out of my body like a fish pulled from the river. called it liberation. told me this is how it’s supposed to go. that freedom always feels like drowning, at first, like your lungs are a question reaching into nowhere, and you promised me that the answer would be worth it. promised that breathing was a lesson, a language your body could teach. but you weren’t the first. speaking this spell of benevolence, fishnet-tongued: (is it still a lie once you’ve made yourself believe it?) wanting, practiced, repeating—promising you could make me whole, make me real, make me safe—i’ve written this p