She grew up believing that she could tackle the world, that her hardships were merely ocean waves and after the crash, they would simmer down to a shallow puddle, freed from the fear of drowning.
She grew up believing that her feelings held much more than emotional backstories. That they were actually never-ending novels and sometimes, it's okay to not finish the book.
She grew up believing she was okay. That even on the days where her salty tears tasted bitter, she could look at her rosy, water-stained cheeks and be reminded of their sweetness.
She grew up believing that her scars were veins full of ink. A violent tattoo beneath her skin, begging to be released but covered up by a sleeve.
She grew up believing that nighttime has no secrets. That instead of being afraid of the dark, the real devil bears a sunny smile.
She grew up believing that she could never leave this Earth. That Mercury held no vacancy and Venus was just a bitch.
She grew up believing that her self-criticism lacked strength. That maybe being hard on herself would prove sturdy in a world where anything soft gets used.
She grew up believing.
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