I woke up broken today. It could be for so many reasons. There’s a new girl occupying me, this one that’s been here since I got sick. Is she my ghost? Did I die during the first operation and this is all a dream? If it’s all a dream maybe we won’t all die. New Girl is afraid to go outside. To show people her face, even people she loves. New Girl makes me angry. She has no endurance. She has no drive. She has nothing but this wool blanket. (It’s wet, by the way.) She drapes it over our shoulders and has sewn it in so we wear it everywhere we go. Everywhere we go is not safe. New Girl hates and loves and does not wonder. She does not wander. When she first arrived, New Girl cried. Every two hours, we would stop so she could cry, so she could try to squeeze out what was left of life -rjm
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Jo McCrory is a writer and artist living in northern California.
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secrets secrets secrets secrets secrets secrets secrets secrets secrets lean in close so i can whisper all my secrets -rjm
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