“This may sound obvious to some, but you don’t have to say that you’re okay when you aren’t okay.”

Breathing in these embers, my esophagus melts like candle wax, and these things I need to get off my chest remain buried in my lungs. They fight for a release, so they worm their way through my veins. I can feel them crawling, a sick itch beneath my skin, sending my sense of touch into disarray. I need relief from the fire that is boiling in my blood, so I’ll treat my skin as bark, carving out chunks of crimson comfort..

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