My friends are only skin deep.
My skin is tainted.
Tainted with regret and memories filled with sadness.
The sadness and memories come forth as ink.
Ink that i hate and makes me hate myself.
I, me, myself has become a monster of skin deep friends.
Any deeper is just pain.

The time with you made the ground softer, colors were harder, water was stronger, pain was weaker, emotions were crisper, just loving you is amazing.

It rains in my room.
Im happy for her.
My walls close in around me.
Im happy for her.
Im happy for her?

My bed has a vacancy again.
It burdans me.
I don't like to sleep alone.
I hate it.
I want her here.
In my arms.
Next to me.
Breathing.
Dreaming.
Next to me.

There was always something I could have said to comfort her.
But the words escape me.
As do the words to get her back.

I'm losing my grip on reality. A I find it harder whit everyday that passes to control myself. The thought of cutting off a limb seems soothing and peaceful despite the blood pain and screams. I stare. Not at one thing, but at everything and just picture it dark and destroyed. As if I can be in control again. I regret who I was, and reject who I am.