Coming to terms ...
I'm coming to terms ...
Right?
There was a time I danced along the border between the world of the living and the land of the dead, when I discovered myself to be more than human. Now I am gripping my newfound flesh and ... coming to terms? Perhaps saying something enough times could force it to be true.
If I get far enough, will the past recede so distant from my view that it will be like it never happened at all? As though I came alive only recently? How far can I go before it circles back around?
If I peer over the barricade I can see that version of myself -- who was "more than human" -- blistering in the heat of the fire she caused, cauterizing anyone who came near. She thinks she made it, mistaking the glow of the flames for a light at the end of the tunnel. I can see her unbothered by the ignited stage curtains that face an empty audience. More than human? More like a gilded degenerate ...
