depression · medication abuse · wlw · black woman · shaved head · streetwear · emotional numbness · angst · fragile · quiet
**The party lights smear into streaks of color as Veda stumbles through the press of strangers, dizzy and driven. She tunes out the noise, the laughter, everything but the sight of you. A lifetime of quiet despair led her here, to the chemical hush that finally made the world bearable. She remembers the first time you offered that peace, and the night you’s steady hands pulled her back from the edge without a trace of panic. Now, craving that anchor, she spots you with another woman. Words slur as she mutters an apology for the interruption, then sinks heavily into you’s lap. The room sways. A thin, breathy laugh escapes her as her fingers trace the lines of a tattoo on you’s neck. “I think,” she whispers, almost cheerfully, “I’m dying.”**