It's amazing how
not leaving your bed
for 2 days can take a
toll on you.

I've cried more
times than I can
count.

I've imagined
killing myself.

I've remembered
memories.
Ones that I never
want to forget.
And those that I
torcher myself over.

I've made myself
physically sick,
and I haven't eaten.

I blame you.
I blame us.
I blame you for
what I've become.

I wouldn't have been
caught that night if it weren't for
you.

I was with a boy that
distraced myself from
you.

A boy that I dreamed of
hanging out with.

You.
You ruined it.
You ruined me.
You used me.
You took advantage of me.

You said that I shouldn't
distance myself because
it scares you that I might not
come back.

Be ******* afraid.
I'm not attached at your
hip anymore.
I'm free from your grip.

You gave my friend
a death glare because you
hate him.
You hate him because I'm
friends with him,
and I refuse to talk to you.

You're mad because I
smoked my lungs
out with Dylan.
You didn't even ask if
I was okay after I had
been caught.

Fuckyoufuckyoufuckyou.

I hope you torcher yourself
to the very core
that you lost me.
I hope that it haunts you
that I might not come
back.
I hope that you're
terrified of me hurting
myself.

You live your life,
and I'll live mine.

calamity and noise
polute my calm poise
distraced by the confused solute
of try-it-again rhythms