And there was a point somewhere in between the lies and the silence, there was a moment. When nothing mattered. And nothing cared. And nothing existed. And then, when I was locked in between the bedroom walls and the dark corners of my mind, running liquid thoughts and the burning breaths, it all stopped. I could feel myself withering away to nothing and as I tried to grasp onto the shattered, blood stained glass that is my hope, though it melted away too. I watched everything burn, I watched everything obliviously continue as the world smashed in two. It was over. I was gone, everything was gone. And to look down at myself, I saw a monster being controlled by death. How would I ever live again?
Now I lie here, breathless and alone. With only the bedsheets that are damp from my soul I had spilled out. Blood sits on my wrists at peace, spilling out the dead and the lonely, the pained and the heartbroken. I no longer watch this hell from a distance but I disastrously live in it, and I have all this time. Even if teeth and razors are the only way to survive, there is no tricking myself. Not here, not then, not ever. We are all living in this hell watching the monsters take over what we are. The monsters are who we become.