biancagoulart

A stream of natural light penetrated the murky room illuminating the area for the first time in years. The sound of the curtain was the only noise around her causing a small knot to form in her stomach. The empath let out a shallow sigh as she moved on to her books, their leather bounds long forgotten to her. She allowed her fingers to trace their spines, feeling the engraved letters under her skin. Spells, stories, notes, everything that one witch could wish for available to her and yet she couldn’t bring herself to pull one from its perch. Theses pieces of history were no longer hers, left behind by a frightened girl with no sense of

I spent eighteen years fighting to be good enough fighting to be the best at whatever I was going to do fighting to make her happy. She said she just wanted me to be happy but when I was happiest she was dissatisfied. And when I finally could tell her that for eighteen years every hour every minute I’d been fighting for her, she wouldn’t hear it, because it’s not enough for her and sometimes she can be wrong but no one else is allowed to be right. And when I told her - let it all spill out in messy chunks, my fear and anxiety, the constant pressure of her words and disapproving eyes glassy and green, something I once wished