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Self Discovery
December 10, 2020
I am not human. I don’t know exactly what I am but I don’t need sleep. I don’t need food. When I get a cut my blood isn’t red. It’s gold.
My parents brush it off. They say I’m imagining things. Maybe they’re right. If I can’t sleep then maybe the things I’ve noticed aren’t real.
Maybe I have felt hunger. Maybe I’ve hallucinated the glittery gold liquid that seeped from my finger when I got a paper cut last week.
Or maybe they’re wrong. Maybe they know. Maybe they’re afraid. Afraid of what I am or worse, what I could do.
© MacMillan
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