He raises his eyebrows. “At least I’m honest about being a liar.

10,000 tiny particles shatter between us.

His eyes are the perfect shade of cobalt, blue like a blossoming bruise, clear and deep and decided.

Your eyes are so deep. So calm. I want to know what you’re thinking.

You’ve been on the edge of insanity your entire life, haven’t you? So many people called you crazy you actually started to believe it. You wondered if they were right. You wondered if you could fix it. You though if you could just try a little harder, be a little better, smarter, nicer – you thought the world would change its mind about you. You blamed yourself for everything.

They say our world used to be green. Our clouds used to be white. Our sun was always the right kind of light.

I hate myself for enjoying it. I.

There are wire cutters carving holes in my heart.

The sky is weeping for us.

I follow his eyes to the pane of glass separating us from reality and I wait for his lips to part; I wait to listen to him speak. And then I try to pay attention as his words bounce around in the haze of my head, fogging my senses, misting my eyes, clouding my concentration.