Nearly all of me was gone by the time I realized it was killing me to love you, it was breaking me into pieces being ignored, and now I am nothing left. No matter how much I tried to believe my hero when she told me I was more than what they all made me into, I am still nothing. I've been a sick, sick liar telling myself this was all okay. I've thrown up too many times to speak. I can't stand for all the blood I've lost and friends who never really were. I have disappeared completely and I desperately need to know what this is now - what is left and walking around. This shell can't be healthy but all of you people encourage it to keep "living". Pieces come back to visit but no, you can't make a glass figurine whole again after you've thrown it into a wall, too many chips fell and you never found them. I crave color and truth and feelings but then again I don't because craving is something you can't do when you are so far past numb you don't feel yourself breathing. I don't believe anyone and I don't think I ever have, don't think I ever believed in trust - maybe the way some people don't believe in magic. My legs look more like a cutting board and I don't look in the mirror anymore, I'll only see drained eyes and wish I had enough in me to force a smile. I keep reminding myself to be quieter but it's a lot like ******* your tummy in, you get too comfortable and forget. I used to be very good at both. I don't remember when I stopped sleeping at night but what a silly thing to think it was a good idea. Darkness brings feelings I crave but never the good ones, no, never ever the good ones. Maybe you should be scared of the dark, it never did hold anything good. Maybe you should be scared of me, too. Darkness is what's on the inside of me, and if I hadn't spilled my own blood more times than I could count, I would swear it was black.

*6.19.13