And I don't want to put the suit on.
I don't want to look fancy for all of this.
My knees are shaking from weakness and my brain is pounding from all the haze.
But I'm sad. So, so very sad. My head is heavy and my heart is heavy. Because I have no future. I mean, I'll always have a future, but I'll never dream of a future with anyone. I'll never have cute words to exchange. Because, for me, life's all business. And I can never want.
I keep telling myself I'm not going to cry. And my eyelashes lick up the tears that threaten to fall. But every other part of me cries. All of my muscles are in spasms, and the stitch stays in my side.
I can't breathe. Even now. Just short choppy spews followed by a shaky gasp.
It's the end of everything and there's nothing I can do about iiiiittt. And everyone else gets a new beginning. And everyone else is talking it out. I used to be so sickeningly optimistic. But now it's not even pessimism. It's nothing. And that scares me. That I feel nothing.
Void.
Empty.
Nothing.
But man, when I feel, do I feel it all. I feel the nails being driven through my bones and the hands all ripping out my hair. And my head pounds. And my head pounds. And my head pounds. And I feel the fluid. And it's makes my neck stiff. And my it's making my neck stiff. And the thought of food makes me heave. And the smell of food disgusts me.
And everything I do is to punish me, not to make me a better person. But I don't make a scene out of it. I quietly torture myself because I can't stop. And it's sick. Especially when I scratchatmybrainwithmyclaws. And it screams, but I'm so satisfied.
I'm fragile. Mostly because of me.
But when someone else stabs at me, I crumble. And I'm fragile.
And nothing from before seems to matter to me because I know it's the end. And I know I lost. I lost because I didn't protect my pulsating heart. I let it be butchered. And it's all gone to shit.
Oh how I hate being crossed.
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