(no subject)

I'm glad I don't care what she says. When she talks, I'm never a woman. I am an animal. I am a man. I am a monster. I am an it. I am hideous. Never a woman.

I don't mind that though, because whatever she says, it's only words. And words sting. Words ache. But they're not real.

And then she smiles and says she's sorry. She holds out her hand and I forgive her. But I still don't care what she says.