if you are the type of person who breaks before the gunshot- if you have ran harder than ever when your body screams at you to stop- if you have hit the ground dying so you can fall to hell in pieces- then congratulations. We will consider your proposition. When you are ready. The end is yours to keep.
There, I thought, maybe I will finally learn how to be cut without being breached.
And there, at last, maybe I will be a thing held and hummed and not forgotten, because I hear that you can’t be taken away against your will if you give yourself first.
Do you hear me? I’ll give myself. First. Already.
I swear it. I swear it, I do. I do. To the old gods and the new, to this word and the next and what comes after, to the stars that were only ever the tears of an unseen sun, to whatever else is watching when you don’t, I swear it.
To find this thing and lose myself to it, or lose myself in the searching. Which, I suppose, is the same thing.
I run for pain, the excruciating burn of desire. I burn for the exquisite absence of thought.