one year and I remember

The demon most to be feared is obsession with yourself. Not only does it erode the grasp you have of reality, slowly isolating you from all the beauty and joy you could find in the world, it twists it's knife with a strange kind of irony and cuts you away even from yourself warping all the glass in which you look for your own face. Your self-love makes you hideous to your self, your self-hatred makes you hate everything beside yourself. It empties out love and sweeps away friendship and leaves you alone, senselessly moored in the middle of the ocean.

It was a white star, perfectly white, and smelling like the morning itself. I laid it by her on the pillow while she slept. The sun came in and filled her face and the petals. Later in her sleep she crushed it, and so she never knew.