what’s past is prologue. 

Everything that has happened has led me to right now, to this place.

The boy and his bats. The red ink stains that people mistake for blood. The old best friend with red hair who ate men like air – until one day she didn’t. The “i am”s like heartbeats. The break-up that had me getting my skin etched three weeks later on my twenty-third birthday.


Every moment has brought me. Here.