I remember sitting at the edge of my bed,
thinking that this was it.
I remember sitting at the edge of my bed,
wanting to die at the age of 14 because the I felt the life I had lived was unbearable.
When someone makes you feel like **** all the time you feel like there is no escape.
No, it wasn't the bullies at my school.
It was my mother.
My mother who had drove me to my attempted suicide.
Hounding at me for days, ripping me apart like a tough piece of meat, and these vicious attacks that would leave me numb like diamorphine would.
The only way I could escape was drugs.
Drugs that would make me feel dead, but also alive.
Swimming around in my blood like a sardine looking for its school.
Blood pounding, heart rushing, adrenaline pumping.
And when it was over?
I would find myself in the emergency room at 4:00 AM with my arm hooked up to a saline drip, like a prisoner who was to be interrogated.
I'd wake up with thirsty eyes and a mouth stale with the taste of *****.
The tribulation was unbearable,
with every inch of my body griping for more of the substance.
I felt like I was tangled up in branches like ligaments that would only break once you cut them with a scalpel.
Then I met you.
It was like I didn't need the drugs anymore, but I did need the scalpel,
and you were my ******.
You were addictive like a drug and I always came back for more.
You tasted so fine,
like beef but softer.
I was awoken at 4:00 AM with the sound of police banging of my door.
I think they found out little secret.