I felt a strange feeling inside me, somewhat kind of stubborn fire. A rebellion against my own despair, that's actually exciting. Me against myself. Maybe, I did not know all the truths yet, maybe the past was twisted, maybe the voices still lurked, but I had one tiny foundation stone to step on, and that is I am a ceraunophile, a person who is fascinated by thunder and lightning.
That night, after Dr. Veracious had left me to rest, I sat on my bed, notebook clutched against my chest. I can still feel my body tremble however, my heart is calmer now. The oxygen mask sat beside me, unused now. I breathed on my own, a bit shallow but steady. I am still thinking about my hundred truths, a hundred bricks that I have to build. "I am not theirs," I whispered to the darkness around me, my voice was barely a thread of sound. The walls of my room listened in silence, but inside me, I know something was heard. Something began to shift, awakened. A tiny revolution planted in my blood and bone.
