I was a stem in a storm. I was a lightning-struck seed. I threw myself into the wind, but my roots were too deep.

I swore they were all I had. Those roots were my everything, but I have grown into more than my beginning.

I am myself, I just needed restarting. I saw the afterlife and treated it like an afterparty. I am myself like I've never been. We were never god’s great mistake. I am not someon...

I am stuck between personalities.

1: She is bold and strong in both mind and body. She wields her skin like armour, like she has always been destined for battle.

She wears blood like makeup.

Her voice commands respect as a king would command his army. You have no choice but to listen.

She glistens like lightening, comforts like the glare off teardrops.

She surrounds the enemy with a forked tongue...

I wish I were a candle. Fire contained. Slow-burning. I want to be able to take the heat. I want to hold something precious, something that is comforting to my friends and threatening to my foes. I want to radiate fresh vanilla. I want to be the centrepiece at a romantic dinner, someone’s gift at Christmas.

But that's not who I am. I am rage spilling over. I flicker in the gentle wind, my sisters...