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forms.gle/RMTG4ecYXXq5C4…

without you, we wouldn’t exist. and, of course, without us, you would have been nothing.

darling, dearest, dead.

mothers are humans who sometimes give birth to their pain instead of children.

she is gone. she will no longer talk, no longer laugh, cry, or get angry.

home is the first grave.

do not go where i cannot follow.

is there anything so undoing as a daughter?

you believe me like a god, i betray you like a man.

what are children of fathers if not sacrifices?

a heart is a heavy burden.

who can presume to know the heart of a dragon?

godhood is just like girlhood: a begging to be believed.

i loved you to the point of ruin. i loved you until my lungs were filled with ash.

rage—goddess, sing the rage of peleus’ son achilles — murderous, doomed.

i’m not going to destroy the world, but i am going to hold it in my hands and squeeze it. i’m going to make it afraid, just like i’ve made you afraid.

let us dance, for we shall both be meeting our makers soon.

and what is love, anyway? it’s claw marks, scratches, scars, traces someone leaves inside you.

we mothers do what we can to keep our sons from the grave, though they do seem to yearn for it.

i’ve met you over and over, and every time … i had to watch you die.

you held on to something that never held on to you, and that was the problem.