Obituary 1



When I was thirteen, I discovered that I suffered thorns.

Not the kind that grows on rose stalks, but soft, fleshy lumps sprouting from my hands. It started as an itch in the palm. Then they reared their ugly, pointy-shaped heads, like a plantation of crocus buds in spring. They grew more prominent with each passing day, bending flesh and bone where they bloom. I tried to shave them off, but they burst painfully, leaving behind infected abscesses and emitting an acidic smell. Each time I cut them off they seemed to grow back bolder and firmer, cracking razor blades, splitting skin. I tried keeping them trimmed for so long, covered my hands with bandages to conceal the suppuration and sprayed perfume into the wounds to mask the stench. The lumps didn’t give up the fight. Slowly, they chiseled out a distance between myself and the rest of the world. I couldn’t reach for other people. I tried touching myself, sating the starvation in me, but the nibs cut up my thighs and perforated my inner walls. I laughed and bled out my satisfaction, came over and over to the thought of inflicting this pain on other people, showing them the nature of my hell. I stopped shaving the nibs off and instead let them grow long and spiky, watching the world retract as I engorged. I sharpened the outgrowths like knives until they were strong enough to penetrate the mold which kept me imprisoned. I would not be pretty, I would be rage and ravish and rain on a November day. Smile, you deranged Dorothy, for the world has grown cold and loosened its grip on our fragile hearts.

It is time we showed them our true selves.


32 thoughts on “Obituary 1

    1. I’m actually very surprised to see this resonate with people, as I was highly unsure whether to publish it in the first place. So dark, and so uncomfortably personal! Seeing your appreciation makes me glad I did though. ❤ Oh and as for finding a safe place and acceptance, I plan to write a continuation to this. So wait for it :3

      Liked by 1 person

      1. The fact that it is SO uncomfortably personal is what I appreciated the most…you are so courageous in your writing. You and I don’t have the same writing styles but my goal is to (eventually) write about the things that are buried the deepest inside me. Not sure I will ever get to where you already are. You constantly surprise and amaze me. I am so very glad to be following you…❤️❤️❤️ Can’t wait to read the continuation…😊

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Different means, same soul and creative drive indeed… I have so much respect for you and what you’re doing, I want you to know that ❤ I enjoy reading most genres. And you are ever so sweet, thank you! :33

        Liked by 1 person

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