How is it every time I relapse I hear your voice?
I think you were right. I was bound to hurt somebody eventually, I just didn't think it'd be myself. I'm conflicted.
I didn't hurt him. That's good. But I ruined everything I had with him. That's not good. It's just like before, isn't it? I don't know who I am without you. I still can't say that word. I flinch whenever I hear it.
Fuck you. Did I ever get to say that? I'm saying it now. Fuck you. Fuck you and everything you did to me. Fuck you and your goddamn fingers. Fuck you and your touch. Fuck you.
I fucking hate you. God, this feels good. I'm more than *****. I'm more than Nyx or even Xenia. Every name I choose for myself always comes back to you. Xenia.
Did I even realize what I was doing when I picked that name? Do you even remember who she was? Do you know who I am? Have you forgotten? I hope so.
Everytime we drive by your house, I look at your window. I hate that I do it. I don't want to. It's a reflex at this point, I think.
My arm hurts so bad. I wish I could take my whole damn arm off and replace it with skin you've never touched. I'm wearing the jacket. The ***** jacket as SK called it. Did you ever go with that nickname? I know SS did.
I wish I could put you into a box. 1/39. Just 1/39 people. But everytime I try to classify my feelings their names come back. I've never forgotten what happened those days. You weren't the first or the last.
You should just be another name on a list. But you're not.
Each one of their suicide attempts or slit wrists I remember. I remember the scars. I remember the tears in their eyes.
Y'know I'm listening to AW songs on repeat. He reminds me of you more than I'd like to admit.
Do you think that there's a place where friends exist without ulterior motives? Where I can make a friend who doesn't see me as a therapist or doll? Where I can trust somebody and not worry about that word?
Can somebody - anybody - redefine that word for me? I've tried to redefine it for myself and I just lack the strength or willpower I guess.
I'm still a kid. You're still a kid. We were kids back then. That's the only thing that makes it bearable. You were just a kid who needed help.
Do you hate me? I hate me.
I never got to tell you that I followed in your footsteps. My parents are worried about me. I don't eat enough anymore. When's the last time I ate consistently? I don't know.
I don't want to see your face again. I hope I never have to.
from,
me
