I screamed into a pillow until my throat bled. I wrote letters I’d never send, filled with words I’d never speak. I tore a photograph in half—not out of spite, but out of honesty. That person wasn't me anymore. That person had been standing still while the river rose around her knees, pretending she wasn't getting wet.
The words came out wrong. They always did. But for the first time, they felt true. i feel myself torrent
"I feel myself torrent," I whispered into the collar of my jacket. I screamed into a pillow until my throat bled
Outside, the clouds were gathering again. Good, I thought. Let it come. That person wasn't me anymore
It started small: a forgotten grocery list that surfaced in my mind with the clarity of a scream. Then a laugh I’d buried six years ago, rising like a bubble from deep water—my mother’s laugh, the one she used before the treatments, before the slow quiet. I didn’t summon it. It just came. And then another. And another. Memories I’d locked in chests, weighted with stones, were now drifting up unannounced.