… 𝓣𝚁͟𝙸͟𝚂𝑻𝑨N.

guilt—ridden and almost angry. there's always anger lurking beneath my skin: envy and jealousy and why—not—me's. sometimes mellowed, sometimes the hearth's calm flame, but always burning. it's the only warmth i've ever had to cling to.

i think a person who knows rage also knows sorrow.