i did not mean to become like this: a monster, a leviathan. a killer, a weapon of war. but i know nothing of peace, and what solace can i seek if not in blood?
not many, but a few people loved me, and although i didn't know it, it's what was keeping my head above the water. it was love that kept me alive all those years.
there are times when i do not choose healing. i'm stubborn. i choose self—destruction instead hoping that i will learn what it's like to have wounds again. and i learn and learn and learn again.
i want you to know that it is okay not to love me. i want you to know that you are not the first person who found it a little too tough, who took two steps back when my jaws started snapping.