ive always told myself "i can do this on my own." i can draw the blade and pierce it through the ones in my way. i can watch their blood pool beneath my feet, and feel no remorse.
but my hands are stained crimson and there are tears in my eyes. my hands search, not for a blade but, for you.
i do not want to stain your clothes with my past, but i need you like the air i breathe.