ARE YOU A BLOOD OR FLESH PERSON?
WARMTH OR WEIGHT?
FLOW OR FORM?

Blood because I never stop feeling. Because it rushes, pulses, drowns. Because everything in me moves too fast, too much. Blood because I stain everything I touch. Because I feel every bruise from the inside out. Blood because it keeps me alive and still finds a way to hurt. Because I can't hold it in. Because I don't want to.

Blood because it's the scream beneath my skin. Because I live in the burn of it. Because when it spills, it reminds me I'm real. Blood because it never asks permission. Blood because it's never quiet.

Flesh because I carry the proof of everything. Every wound, every want, every time I was touched too gently or too hard. Flesh because I remember things I never asked to hold on to. Flesh because I exist in weight—too much of me, too soft, too wrong. Because I am not armor.

Flesh because it molds around me like a cage. Because it never lets me forget what I am. Flesh because it betrays me. Because I can't crawl out of it. Flesh because I keep trying to make peace with something that keeps changing. Flesh because it's where all the ghosts hide.