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I never knew how to cut ties with the people that gave me life as if their words were an IV line. I was too afraid to pull the needle out and risk a little bleeding. I never needed to lie like a corpse in a hospital bed, but I was too scared of walking on my own two feet.
So when you came to my bedside with pink roses and pink cheeks and brought color into my room of stark white, I thought you were a contemporary masterpiece. I drank the words from your lips like water, thinking that your knowledge was worldly, that you were the only source of happiness I could ever find, that you were the only person that could bring me life. And you kept me there. You bound me with the thorns of all your roses, and I pretended to stay ignorant of the cuts deep in my skin, all because I wanted to see the pretty pinks of the flowers.
I didn’t realize that there were so many more colors to see, if only I’d gather the strength to step past you, to step outside.
Do Nguyen Mai (via wnq-writers)
