Your arms feel like home to me.
But I don't know where I'm going to be the next few weeks.
Certainly not where I want to be.
But where I need to be.
Leaving you feels like leaving home.
I know it's temporary, but it already feels like eternity
And I haven't even left yet.
I'd never seen you cry before last night.
It came as a shock.
"Happy 16th birthday, you're going to in patient."
I realize you don't know how to deal with things, because you're exactly like me.
I'm leaving for too long.
It scares me so much.
If you relapse, I don't know what I'm going to do.
Scream? Sob? Lose my mind?
I don't know.
The thought of another girl touching what's  mine makes me feel like I'm going to spontaneously combust
And I know I won't stop burning.
"Do what is going to make you better, what's going to make you happy. I'm going to hate every second of it, but don't think of me in this decision."
Do you even realize what you're asking me to do?
You're asking me to choose between leaving the one person I've felt like I've known forever, and facing my own personal hell.
I know I'm never going to stop carrying this heavy load on my back that is my trauma if I don't leave.
But it is so. *******. Hard.
You weren't my first with a lot of things,
But you were the first of the important things.
First person I've cared about more than myself.
First person to stay and not give me some ******* excuse of "you're to ****** up for me".
The very first person that didn't leave the very second he got what he wanted out of me.
The first to not be manipulative, or mean, or abusive.
The first to encourage me to do something with my life other than sit in my room all day or party.
The first that encouraged me to get an education.
The first to want a future with me.
" I refuse to think that this is over. I know you'll be gone a long time, but we are not ******* over. Not by a long shot. We're not done."
Those words are my only comfort. The problem is, they're just words. One can say whatever he wants. Whether or not his words become reality will always be questioned until the day that they're not.
I've been dying a long time.
I fear that the maggots and worms writhing around beneath my skin will begin to eat at a faster pace.

Fear is eating away at my stomach,
And dissolving my brain.
So much so that the ability to think straight, eat, sleep, have all become a challenge.
A toxic mixture of fear and confusion are what's eating at my brain now.
Hey, at least for once it's not the drugs right?
There are two of me.
One says, the optimistic one, that it'll all be okay, and to just go with this.
The other, well, she doesn't like the look of this.
One is all lovey dovey, and the other is so scared of being stabbed in the back that she'd rather just sit in my room all day and ignore the fact that he exists.
She's always saying that this one is smart, he's not like the predictable idiots from the past. He's actually proven this time and time again, so its not just an assumption that he's a genius. This makes him so much more charming, and he has so much to offer, but it also makes him incredibly unpredictable.
Now that, that is some unknown territory for the both of us.
It bugs them both so much that they can't simply read his mind like the others. That they can't predict his every move days, or even weeks beforehand.
I've come to terms with the fact that the optimistic one is a *******. She always falls for stupid games. The other, she's not so dim, but even she is teetering on the edge for once. Teetering between trusting, and running the **** away.
That is a first for her, she never faulters, ever.
I haven't listened or taken heed of her words in the past. It's always left me unhappy, alone, and feeling stupid. She's the practical one, the one the never listens to her emotions.
The ******* on the other hand? Emotions rule her every decision, she's a fool. Listening to her has never gotten me anywhere good.
For once I'm listening to the practical one, and for the first time, even she's baffled by this oddity.
One cares to much, the other, usually doesn't even care as to whether she or anyone else dies.
Even she worries about him.
He may be smart, but he's just as ****** up. Just as likely to do the things I would. Just as likely to be utterly unpredictable. That, is terrifying.
I may love someone one day, but if they decide to stab me in the back, I'll still love them. However, I'll never speak to them again, and whenever they're around a fire will start inside of me. That continuously burns until they're so uncomfortable they feel the need to leave.
I may love him, but trusting is an altogether different thing for me. It only takes one mistake to destroy it and never gain it back. I'm always on high alert, and I refuse to take chances.
I believe this is the only thing that will keep me safe, but at what cost?

i wish i could forget i exist
as easily as you do
pushing the times we shared into the gaps between your teeth
until the appropriate social situation convinces you to let them leak

i wear my memories as stains on my shirt,
constantly reminded of the yesterdays
and strangled slowly by a set of hands
that i can always feel around my throat
hardly ever able to breathe,
and when i do
i only choke

time sure flies when you're dying
and all of us could use a little ride now and then
the images rushing by the window make us dizzy and sick
as we try to make out some of the pieces of our lives
before the car stops, and we're asked to get off and politely make room for the next passenger

You know it's bad town,
When it's easier for a sixteen year old,
to get her hands on ****,
Rather than whiskey.

These ******* hickies,
are going to last longer than we did.
Almost a year,
spent on someone who got bored in a week.
I never really had a chance with you.
Did I?
Not a chance in hell.
I didn't think you'd turn into the empty headed zombies that walk around and infect people with the incurable sickness,
of stupidity.
I honestly thought you were immune like me, and for a fleeting moment I didn't feel so alone.
But I was wrong. Yet again. And now I have these ******* hickies reminding me of the time I faltered and went into a hallucinogenic state.
I can't even listen to my favorite music anymore without being reminded that you still exist.
You ruined it, and you ruined me too.

I cannot run any longer.
The rate I've been going all these years,
everything just imploded.
I haven't much time,
to write these words on the pavement before lights out, for good this time.
Everything strewn everywhere.
My left eyeball is still rolling. The right is barely hanging on.
My blood rushes in all directions.
Some of it drips off into the dirt and soaks in.
But the rest seems to paint a picture.
An exploding city, the streets are flowing red, and the dust will never settle.
It's beautiful, and chaotic at the same time.
Seeing a tower right before it crashes down, and contributes to the destruction of it's own home.
I don't know how much longer I have to admire this,
and I don't know if anyone else will ever get to see something so-
So completely ******* insane.
The city no longer exists, neither do I.
The blood has covered everything.

Where do I begin?
Liar?
Controlling?
Unrealistic expectations I can never hope to reach?
The jealously written on your face?
I swear with you, I never know where to begin.
My blood boils at the thought of you,
calling yourself a mother,
when you don't even know the meaning of the word.
The ***** donor you refer to as my biological father,
may have been a ******* on ****,
but you know what?
He didn't threaten to **** me as an embryo whenever he didn't get his way.
As a matter of fact, he "saved" me from you,
upon multiple occasions.
All I am to you is a game piece,
and you play those little games with everyone around you.
I'm not human to you, I never was.
I tend to punch walls whenever I think about the fact that you actually lied to ME, for attention.
So that'd I'd feel bad for my poor, poor, mother
....and continue to care for the three younger unwanted kids.
God, that jealously is probably the thing I like about you best.
After all, it's the only "positive" thing I ever get from you.
You have no idea how good it feels to not only one up you,
but to get to watch and study how your face changes,
the way you glare at everything you want,
I know you want a 32DD bra size.
I know you want large green eyes.
I know you want wide hips, and young, firm, skin.
Thing is, I'm not even that attractive,
the thing you envy most,
is how happy you've seen me be around people I actually like.
Unlike you, I'll tell anyone to **** themselves, I'll surround myself by people I actually like, and I know how to play instruments, and they bring me more joy than you'll ever feel.
Unlike you, I don't lie and control everyone I meet, I stay honest, and don't **** around like that.
You may have drilled it into my head so deep that I need to be perfect.
And yeah, it destroys me every time I look in a mirror, or **** up, or remember things and obsess over them as they play over and over in my head like a broken ******* record.
I guess you win that round huh?
However, please realize, I see through your every facade, every mask, you're ******* transparent to me.
I know what you are.
You will always be vulnerable to me, you will always be naked, without a hard shell for protection.
I and believe me, I will NEVER stop reminding you.
I'll never stop picking you apart, like a crow on carrion.
I will be your own personal hell.
And I'll enjoy every moment of it.