The Dark Does Not Weep For Itself

No One Had Ever Said Anything Like That To Evie. Her Parents Always Wanted To Advise Or Instruct Or Command. They Were Good People, But They Needed The World To Bend To Them, To Fit Into Their Order Of Things. Evie Had Never Really Quite Fit, And When She Tried, She’d Just Pop Back Out, Like A Doll Squeezed Into A Too-small Box.

Wanna Rock You, Girl, With A Butterfly Tunic. / No, I'm Not Gay, I'm Just Your Emo Enuch. / Gonna Smile Real Shy, Won't Cop A Feel, / 'cause I'm Your Virgin Crush, Your Supersafe Deal. / Let Those Other Guys Keep Sexing. / You And Me, We Be Texting / 'bout Unicorns And Rainbows And Our Perfect Love. / Girl, We Fit Together Like A Hand In A Glove. / Now I Don't Mean That Nasty, Tell Your Mum Don't Get Mad. / I Even Wrote 'you're Awesome' On Your Maxi Pads.

I Have Done What They Expected Of Me. I Have Curtsied For My Queen And Made My Debut. This Is What I Have Anticipated Eagerly For Years. So Why Do I Feel So Unsatisfied? Everyone Is Merry. They Haven't A Care In The World. And Perhaps That Is It. How Terrible It Is To Have No Cares, No Longings. I Do Not Fit. I Feel Too Deeply And Want Too Much.

You Are Working Up To Mr. Fantastic Fiction Levels Of Zombie Expert, Which Is Like Playing Guitar Hero On Some Level That Actually Melts The Guitar Controller, Burning Your Fingers With Searing Hot Plastic Till You Scream In Pain. Only With Words. And Zombies.

In Every End, There Is Also A Beginning.