Dear Scott,
I’m sorry.
I can’t explain without plunging into the molten hot emotional lava,
That led to the eruption in the first place.
I can’t explain because they are still who they are.
I am still who I am.
Those who are mine still matter more than breath.
You are as tangential as your stories.
Loved but not necessary for breath.
Broken people do broken things.
That is the only explanation I can give.
It is the only explanation anyone ever has.
We explain to vindicate ourselves.
But we are just broken people.
Sorry,
Kathy
About the Creator
Kathryn Labosh
I have an analogous mind and understand the world by what it reminds me of, like Miss Marple! I'm probably somewhere on the spectrum and have two sons with autism. I am a published author of several autism tip books.
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Two Wrinkles In Time
It is pointless to run, my darling, because sixty seconds ago, I will kill you. My blade will have sliced reality open right in front of you. It will have first pierced it as it would a bed sheet left hanging to dry, flapping in the wind on a Sunday afternoon. But the metal will have drawn a line in the air that the ghostly tear will have followed. Then I, La Dyablès, machete firmly in hand, will have emerged from what your mind, at the time, could only interpret as the other side of here—whatever that means to you. I know. I have seen that look on the faces of countless unlucky… clients. You will not have been the first nor the last to try and reneg on a riches for soul contract only to present this visage to me when I come to collect.
By Lily Séjor6 days ago in Fiction
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