#fate

I sat on the damp wood of the bench, feeling a specific kind of exhaustion that sleep has no interest in fixing. It wasn’t the soreness of a hard day's work; it was the heavy, stagnant fatigue that leaks

I grew up in a place where people only ever talked about flowers to remind everyone how fast things die. They’d tell me a blossom is just a fragile thing—it opens up to the morning sun, and by nightfall,