That song plays,
and I am taken to a place,
a time,
a corner
of my mind,
but so real.
Where the pain is physical.
A pain in my chest,
and a stomach ache.
I gasp for breath
while oxygen leaks
from the hole where my heart
ought to be.
Take me back to now please.

No,
I dont think we can
ever
be friends again.
The pain is too strong,
my memory too long.
When my heart went still,
you were always far gone.

Just imagine,
a world where all the hate
was replaced with love,
where absolute empathy
was inherent in all of us
where we comforted
the lost,
the broken,
the lonely,
where we realized
the universal connections.
Just imagine.

You did nothing
to deserve my obsession.
You do not deserve
this level of control
over my heart
my hopes,
my dreams,
my time.
Long ago you were injected
so deep into my bloodstream.
Everytime I think I've gotten clean,
flushed you from my system,
the toxins multiply and spread.
I wish I could extract these feelings,
with scalpels
calipers
tweezers.
Pull them from the fibers of my being,
and burn them in the fire.

The love hate relationship with food,
is so strong. It consumes your life. It is on your mind every second of the day. It becomes your only reason for it all. The only source of contentment, but also the source of your fear, your self hatred, you want it so bad but you abstain because you're scared of the guilt and the consequences you will subject yourself too. To earn your right to feel happy. You impulsively exercise to extremes. And your peers will applaud your dying body.  You have to keep the routine because without it  you are terrified of the free time without focus, because the cycle of hunger and hate will set in. Society has convinced you you're not worthy of love unless you are a *******. If my peers knew the state of my mind they'd ridicule me for not being manly. There are moments, everyday, when you spectate a battle of reason and anxiety in your head.
And all the while you're on a timer. Counting down as your heart rate slows, organs strain and cease, friends drift away from your inability to pretend you're ok, and you are left alone and family beg for your sanity, because you inconvenience them. Everyday, ending it all seems the best solution, but you know better than most, how hard you are to ****. You're also a coward. If there is no intervention you will die, slowly, but assuredly you will. You have the final say.