A wise person once said insanity and brilliance are a fine line.
That confidence and hubris were one boast apart.
But Tia knew she was right. That she was strong, beautiful, perfect.
That she was on the right path.
That everybody loved her, or was a fool not to.
Staring into the mirror in her room of bright colours and light, she spoke to the silence.
“If I wasn’t the best, why do they all listen”
“Why is one conversation enough to get anything I want”
“Why would the world love me oh so much”
"Why would I always feel so damn good"
She flicked her butt cigarette into an ashtray, the thing overflowing.
She grabbed her mascara, her eyeliner and that box of heavenly ecstasy
A match was struck to life, another smoke lit. What was that, seven? Eight?
She truly didn't care. She couldn't get sick anyway. She was too good for that.
She put on her makeup, sat her party hat on her head, and smiled a fang filled smile into the mirror.
“I am truly perfect. Better than the worms that fill this putrid world”
"I am the epitome of life"
"I am mine"