I close my eyes
I can't bear to face the mirror again
The haunting anguish echos through me
It invades and penetrates this shell of myself until it threatens my existence

I don't have the strength to face it, to end it or finish it....

Instead I mask the flames of torment
Instead I condemn the pain that shouldn't exist in my brown eyes,
The window that reflect it, and hide it among the depths of my forgotten soul
Hoping that no one will glimpse its horrors

I compose myself, yet it follows me like a shadow
It waits

The monster isn't finished with me yet

I looked at you once and said
"would you still love me if-"
you cut me off and replied
"if I stop loving you, shoot me. I'll be going crazy"

And I did.

burnt myself today
not only with my words
but with actual fire

oops

I don't like people a lot
but
you're an exception.
.
.
.
.
because you gave me food

Every great story doesn't start out great. It usually starts off as something sudden, an idea. Sometimes that idea is stupid, but then it grows and grows. I never thought I’d be writing a story like this in my entire life, I didnt even plan on being an author. The idea had just happened. I constantly lost muse and I couldnt continue or i’d write and read it later and want to throw it out the window.
I dont know where I got the idea of this story but I know for a fact this isnt what i intended doing for the next four years. Mom suggested it after..the incident. She said if I spent at least an hour a day id have some way to try and get through it. Maybe she’s right, I mean i have always wanted to be an author. The only problem is...what do I write about?

when i see the way you act
i question myself
and say please come back

because you've shown me the world
but i never opened my eyes
to see that you were my world.

sitting here, I think
****
5,000 miles is nothing
but when I think more
...
I'm scared you're never coming back.

I'm trying to convince myself
I know what something slow
And steady looks like.

But who can I fool
When I still recall so vividly
How on day two, he put his hand
Under my shirt
And I asked him not to stop
For eight long months?

How do I lie so convincingly
When I still remember so well
Before, before
How i would tell anyone who would listen:

"I fell in love the first day
I met him,
And did not stop for
The next year and a half."

How can I tell anyone,
How would they--
Could they?
Believe me,
When they know?

When they know I have such deep
Intuition for what I want,
That I dig my claws in by
Minute one,
And don't let go until

They beg.

My life is;

Françoise Hardy, on repeat
Falling a little bit
In love
With many bits of
Many people.

Maybe if I laugh hard enough this time,
Unapologetically,
Beautifully,
My mouth will be so large
I'll swallow you all

And maybe then I'll be so full of you
I'll finally be
Satisfied,
Satiated,
Fed.