Another year-old drabble. This is about me slowly coming out of depression. Title is from the Utada Hikaru song of the same name.
her face had a salty taste, almost unforgivable, almost etched into her pores like waterfalls.
and she flip-flopped so often that, at the end of the day, none of it mattered. what she was yesterday wasn’t what she was today. to think they wanted her to succumb to 30mg.
to think they wanted her to succumb. but she was above something she didn’t understand. she was the überman. überwoman.
‘you look great,’ he said. ‘you look better.’
‘I am better,’ she said.
‘you are no longer b**e.’
‘no,’ she said. ‘more yellow.’
‘y****w, you mean.’
‘right,’ she chuckled, ‘yeah, of course. sorry. I forgot we can’t talk about that here.’