As her filthy eyes explore my broken body, they painfully infect my fresh wounds and scars... "What have you done to yourself?" I look down, expecting to see my body, but I can no longer see it. I can no longer see her. I fall to my knees, drowning in self-shame. I no longer pity myself - I only hate, I only hate.

"Who are you, honestly?" I can't tell if she's asking me or if I am questioning myself. I am not ashamed to admit that I don't know who I am anymore. I haven't known for a long time and I am desperate for answers...

I NEED ANSWERS.

"Tell me the truth." I would if I could, but the poisonous problem is that I am a stranger to myself. I pay close attention to what I say and what I do, all day every day, and yet I still haven't learned a single thing about myself.

"Tell me, tell me now." I can't tell you the truth if I can't even tell myself... I can not face it, not today. I am not ready, not today.

"I need answers." Is that not what I've been saying all along? Aren't you listening to me? Why aren't you listening to me?

But that's just it... No one ever listens... Not until it's too late.

"What have you done to yourself?" I look down, expecting to see my body, but I can no longer see it... I can no longer see anything. It's too late, it's too late. And do you know what? I still do not pity myself - I only hate, I only hate when it's too late...
And it's too late for me,
**today.