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I force myself to write about it as a fictional story in hopes that I can make myself believe it is fictitious. Maybe if I write about it so much, I'll believe it's an overactive imagination.

I had -or have- to distance myself from the ones I'm closest to. It was either taking a break to sort it out or keeping them close and ignoring it until something snaps. The last time something snapped, I ended up having zip-ties for shoelaces and nurses as company.

Sure, things are different now. I'm not the same kid I was all that time ago. I'm more mature. I have different people in my life. Mostly.

I'm not good at having relationships: romantic, platonic, what-have-you. And this doesn't help often. Sometimes, it ends relationships. Sometimes, it accompanies the end. More often it accompanies. When it does, I don't snap. I just get hairline fractures.

I had a bad dream where He died or got hurt. I can't remember which anymore. There were crows all over my school the week of in reality. I thought something bad was going to happen to Him. Turns out, something bad happened to me instead.

Earlier in the day the Second and I broke up, we were fighting because he wanted me to spend more time with him instead of my best friend. I tried to leave and he grabbed my wrist. I threw his hand off of me and bolted to the bathrooms. He followed. I waited for the bell to ring and students to pass in order to leave in hopes that maybe the Second would have given up and left with them. He didn't, and I ran to biology class.

The next morning, he was in my driveway at 7. He had done the same the first time I tried to break up with him in the middle of the night a month prior.

I hope for dreamless nights when I see crows on campus.

I try to forget the bad ones as soon as I open my eyes.

I still get scared and angry if I see a car similar to Second's on the highway.

I only just finished laying in bed for an extra hour after waking up on Saturday mornings.

Instead, I keep my too-small curtain closed 24/7. I lock my bedroom door and turn their handle three times before I got to bed. My closet stays shut as I sleep.

I'm scared of people who aren't there and can't help it. I can't get rid of or ignore the heavy feeling of an unsettling presence out of my spine. It creeps up and nests itself in between every vertebra. In every little crevice.

My Rock tells me they're not real, but I already know that, logically. I just can't help but treat them as they are not. They feel so real. I know the truth. I know it.

But they are real. They are. How are they not?

Fuck. Where is my mind at anymore?

Where am I at?

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