I’ve given up on thinking things will get better. I accepted that this is how my life will be from now on. I know that this is the new baseline, my new reality, and I know that it might get far worse.
Give me love so that I can … Kill.
Sometimes, I think of you as ghost. It’s easier to believe that you never really existed. That you’re just a figment, a lost memory, an error in recollection. I’ve erased your paths but at night sometimes you haunt me still.