White text on a black background. The word “converting” is highlighted in green. Without thinking my fingers curl into a fist. I stretch them back out into a normal position. Don't get angry. Sadness is manageable. But rage? Rage is uncontrollable, damaging. Sadness won't kill anyone but yourself. Rage is how people become serial killers. Converting my rage into sadness is easy. It means I don't have to worry about lashing out and hurting people, or getting into fights at school over some petty comment. So instead of being angry, I'm sad. It's better for everyone that way. If I didn't, I'd have been expelled or in jail a long time ago. I don't know how long I spend asleep or awake, flitting between sleep stages like a ghost weaving between graves in a cemetery, dreaming and waking, nonsensical thoughts blurring between then and now. I am prepared to sink into an endless pit of despair— that's what being home alone is for, after all— but instead I find myself confronted by a thin shred of something resembling optimism, like the pale rays of sunlight sneaking through the blackout curtains in my room.
Today’s #WIPsnips word is #convert. I went with #converting. The other scene was one I think I’ve posted before, and I want to mix things up a bit.
#wip #writing #queer #trans #fiction #ya #horror #mentalillness #fantasy #writesky #booksky #rage
