Rot, Continued

31 Mar, 2025

I wish to speak more about my rot. I believe that when I was born, I was enveloped in a shroud of innocence, or purity. I believe that most are born this way, but mine may have been thicker. Again, the word comes. More tangible. My shroud, my mist, it was strong. And when I was broken for the very first time, so was it.

Once my shroud had dissipated, I could see clearly. I wished I couldn't. Everywhere I looked, it was ugly. So, so, ugly. I looked down at my knobby, knarled knees, and farther down to the cracked concrete on which I stood. I must have begun to cry, seeing all of this ugly. I know I did.

And then the pain hit. I feel as though the pain should be capitalized. Pain. That one doesn't count, it's the start of a sentence. Like this, Pain. Yes, that feels right.