So why then
I hate myself for not being able to stop. I hate myself for liking you in the first place. I hate myself for caring about you. Most of all, I hate you for lying to me.
I want to forget. I want to be free.
I wonder though, if you think of me too. I hope it hurts you everyday, what you did to me.
I don’t miss you. I hate you.
She says “keep your eyes up, your feet aren’t going anywhere, the floor isn’t going anywhere”
But she doesn’t know that the floor really does move. She doesn’t know about the ceiling that swims and the monsters that dance in the carpet. She doesn’t know about the dark and light spots that flicker into my vision. How would she?
You know the feeling when you’re sitting on the floor in a crowded room and everyone else around you is standing and moving and talking? That’s how I feel all the time.
You smile at me and text me good morning, you laugh and we have a good time. But you don’t know my secrets, and heavens, would they scare you.
Is it really resting if fear is all you feel?
I know they would miss me. They tell me so. What I don’t understand is why. And maybe I don’t even care…
No, I’m not okay.