every monster finds it way to my paintbrush. and paints itself and its story.

monsters write themselves in blue ink, idling aphotic shadows, luring near floors, unable to view themselves as nothing more than weak mindless creatures who yearn to be seen as beautiful and not fearful creatures that hide in dark spaces. They want to be drawn and written about, painted and noted. They want to know if they have some place in the world that fears them.
the voices are faded distorted whispers, glitched between my thoughts and the floorboards
they will not let me sleep until they have their stories told.

I think my favorite person was me two or three years ago.
This is not a good thing,
I have been told.
I was really ill back then.
I ate very strangely.
I ate cheerios,
But everything else had to be thrown up.
I would only eat at 2 am when everyone was asleep,
And then I'd throw up and cry for ten minutes,
Only ten minutes,
And then I'd go back to sleep
I lost some weight back then,
About forty pounds in a year.
The doctors asked a lot of questions.
So did my therapist.
But looking back now,
I like how I looked back then.
My stomach was practically flat,
And I ran every day.
I did a lot of self harming,
I still do now,
But back then it was intense.
It took a lot of self control to do it,
And I would like to start all these habits again.
I tried to **** myself so many times back then,
But at least I was putting all my energy into something.
I broke hearts back then,
And I turned girls,
Which I liked to do.
It was a horrible, nasty habit.
I had some friends back then,
And I don't miss them,
But I miss going out and doing things,
And breaking laws,
And having fun.
I was a horrible, emotional wreck,
And no one gave a ****,
And neither did I,
And to be honest neither did you.
But I was smaller,
And I didn't eat,
And I hurt myself every day,
And I was a heart breaker,
And I was a law breaker,
And I was a lone wolf,
And I was the biggest mess in the whole wide world that revolves around me.
But hey,
I was smaller.
And I think that's worth all the other things.

I seem to be the master at this game
always out liking someone
I dive it with high expectations and end with them crashing down into the dirt
because I always out like
You liked me, I liked you
you stopped liking me eventually, but I didn't stop liking you
I win, you lose.
You'd think winning is a sweet victory
but winning this game ends in nothing but sad nights
I win, you lose.
I'll stay on the phone, content with just listening to our silence and you did too
for a while
I win, you lose.
I'll go out of my way to see you
you'd go when it was convenient
I win, you lose.
I keep the same feelings
while yours wither
ha,
I win. you lose.
All connections break because you simply
don't feel it anymore
I win,
you lose.