06-23-15 | 21:39

I was born broken hearted and blue on the day of the dead. I was born on an island, born from one of the most powerful females on that island. Sheltered and doted on I grew up amidst ballerinas, business executives and the virgin mary. I grew up in offices, I grew up in boutiques, making friends with the mannequins whilst I waited for my mother to finish her shopping. I spent my youth gallivanting with friends on the city streets, handing out flowers to strangers, sneaking into hotels and spending the rest of our time on city stoops or a dingy corner diner. Walking by a churchyard at midnight on the night summer solstice I met a boy with a parasol. I came of age when I witnessed a mass murder, falling buildings and destruction. After that I was just a small feral little girl with kohl-lined eyes and a broken heart - feeling like suicide. A few years later I ran into the parasol boy again and we decided to get married.

Is that it? Of course life kept going but I feel like my story ends there. Except I am not that small feral little girl with kohl lined eyes and a melancholy heart. I am a grown up woman with scared skin, and a fearful heart - feeling like a ghost.
I've been biding my time and my time is running out and I don't know what to do or how to do it.

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