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I Die Every Time I Open My Shell
Category: Writing and Poetry
They say pearls form from pain. A parasite slips in, maybe sand, or something artificial shoved into us, and the body coats it in softness, over and over, until grief hardens into something people will pay for. I do not remember when the grain first entered me— the first comment, the first mirror, the first time I realised my face had a shape I could hate, that my body was a reflection others woul... » Continue Reading