It still smells the same out here, in these woods. It smells like pine, & that same wet, earthy aroma you’d find on an early morning in Spring, but all the time. I should have bruises all over my body if you consider the state of my clothes. You’d think I were attacked by a bear or a wolf or something. Those gashes in my jeans bare skin, but no markings or discoloration, & I wish I could say how. I’ve had hundreds of years to try & figure that out but so far, no dice. I suppose in the grand scheme of things it’s not very important.

Does it matter to be hurt or to look hurt? Can you feel hurt if you haven’t been hurt? & what if you feel it anyway? The scariest part to me, aside from waking up in the woods miles away from a party I’d been at the night before,& having no idea how I got there, was that I didn’t hurt… at all. I didn’t feel much of anything to be honest with you. 

& let me tell you: it felt amazing

I know, I know, numb is not a desirable state, but just remember what my life has been like lately. Really remember. It had been so loud I couldn’t concentrate, I couldn’t study, I couldn’t think, I couldn’t exhale without the pressure of everything around me threatening to crush my tiny skull into pixie dust. But suddenly & completely, it was quiet. I couldn’t feel the world around me pulsing & pounding on every inch of my skin anymore — & I don’t think I had ever felt so calm

I mean, look at me, you’d think I’d just laid down on purpose for a quick nap & woke up as expected. Brambles in my hair, no shoes or socks on, rips & tears all through my clothes — I remember my first thought was, Meg’s going to kill me, these pants were hers