and it absolutely was. although she supposed she oughta slow down and figure out just what it was. the first thought would be love, but she didn't know what that was, and never once claimed that she did. a miscommunication, but she didn't communicate at all.
she’d like to say that it’s not from a lack of trying, but rather an inability to put her wants and needs into words. instead they played like movies in her head, fantasies that her mouth refused to speak. and try as she may, she found herself so absorbed in her daydreams, that she became grossly dissatisfied with reality, with them.
the victim in her said it was their fault. they don’t understand. she didn’t shut them out, they quit. but it’s all a game, and everyone would be more hurt than she.
it wasn't enough that the streets of new york city had already shown her more love than she had seen in her entire life. it wasn’t enough that she had finally gotten away, because they took everything with them. and that wasn’t to say that they had anything she wanted, just that perhaps she could’ve had more.
she prefers to be called sia. listed as a missing child, but newly eighteen. the fourth in a family of three, fostered income and nothing more. sixteen, ran away to a city that never sleeps. recently squatting in an apartment, but still prefers to sleep in sheet forts on the streets. she's a dumbass. pluto is absolutely a planet and it's where the dinosaurs live. dead animals are just sleeping on the side of the road. gunshots are just fireworks in the dead of the night. love is not real unless it hurts.
perfection garners attention, and attention is key. disgustingly petrified of bugs and will likely stab you in small spaces. will honestly just stab you period. highly incapable of taking care of herself, and likely the world's biggest brat. a short fuse with an explosive temper. if it's able to thrown, it will be. not sure if people are too slow, or if she's too impatient. collects jointed dolls, and no you can't fucking touch them.
