Naked ambitions held you down and despair was the crown you polished while your reflection drowned in the petty actions of a human dedicated to a life of self medication until you exhausted your time looking for a place to hide and wasted your time trying to sway your ever changing tide.

Hello mom, I know we haven't talked in a few years because I left without saying goodbye but I've been thinking of you a lot lately, I'm sorry I left in a hurry but I wasn't strong enough to stand there and vent my reasons without telling a lie and  I'm starting to regret it, well I dont know I might be. I saw my reflection in the window of a passing car and it reminded me of when you would make me stay home from school and lock me in the closet filled with mirrors after you would beat me and get too drunk to stand, I remember going to school after a morning when you'd turn up the heat on a faucet and place it over my hand, I used to wait in anticipation for when the skin would boil, bubble, peel, and fall. How could you think I'd forget about it all? Like when it would rain and I'd run outside light as feather, excited to swim in 30° weather when it was really you holding my face in a giant puddle filled with bugs that would slither out from the gutter runoff so can you blame me not being able to keep it together? I grew up with everything except love, every time I tried to chase the idea of it you would wrap plastic around my head but I was so small that I never realized it was just a rubber glove, I remember everything. I tried so hard, I even tried when I saw you crying one night after you got beat by some man I put my hand on your shoulder and said it'll be OK, you screamed then bent my wrist back and threw it in the blades of a moving fan, that's the real reason why I left and ran. I know I missed your funeral but I dont feel bad, I'm sitting in a hospital talking to specialists and they keep saying I just dont remember anything and that's what really makes me sad but its fine because when I get depressed, mad, or want to swallow a fist full of pills I just look at the scars you left on my legs when you pushed me into an oven when I was four. How can they say I dont remember anything when I can recall everything? I dont know but I'm writing this letter so I can clip it to the crime scene video they show me every day of your body parts washing up on shore near the old harbor, but I guess ill probably just forget until I see this note again so I'll have to repeat the same routine forever and force my brain through this mental labor.

I was too young to hate, falling asleep afraid, my dreams never stayed straight, they contorted and they twisted, then the monsters would come and visit,I'd blink and appear in an asylum, hugging the walls in the dark it starts, I'd only be able to hear them, no light and I could never see any windows to know if it was day or night but hearing the sounds would make me take dirt and push it in my eyes to banish my sight, I start to hear the footsteps as they circled around me so I'd stand still in hopes they couldn't hear me but they would mimic my families voices so I couldn't help but reach out and that's when I'd feel something dry and slimy, I'd scream as I notice its loose skin that I'm touching and the tears would wash out the dirt and leave my eyes blurry and grimy, a labyrinth of horrors separated me from the world and my sanity, locked away with the worst things my imagination could conjure, I'd wake up to my parents shaking me and yelling to snap out of it but I'd only see shadows and something separating the head from my fathers shoulders, as a child my sanity was very narrow, nothings worse than trying to sleep at night but instead you see a man sever the leg to your mother then trying to **** out all the bone marrow, I couldn't escape, and every day for so many years I had to suffer at night whenever the black curtains would fall and suffocate, I was too young when I learned to hate, I hated to be me when I wasn't me and I hated to be seen when it wasn't really me, that's when i learned what it was like to be your worst enemy, before I was eight I already felt like I was one big error, I would stay up late but my eyes would fall and my dreams would terminate as I fell into another night terror.

Your a wraith, a ghost dedicated to a dying faith, like a mistake, you used life for your needs and gave only to take, as a friend you offered lessons in hate but reeked of an essence that only you could create, ignorance, selfish religious babble for instance, attacking the ideals of others with a dagger between your teeth while preaching against the dangers of he who lies beneath, dont confuse evil for pain, try to experience pleasure from the searing rain that hisses off your hatred, if you can't then I'm sorry my friend, but you've already gone insane