My brain works in mysterious ways. Right now it is fond of the soft light of my room and the colors reflecting off of mirrors and hidden things stuffed away in corners. There are secrets and regrets shoved in every direction from where I sit, and, while I look at them everyday, I am never afraid. I realize now, that for whatever reason I told you I loved you, I never showed you who I really was. Was I that girl? The one with the chains and the lack of restrictions. The one with open wounds and salt-shaker in hand. I was never her no matter how badly you wanted me to be. I never showed you my room, my space. My bed never touched the soft skin of your back. My pillow never felt the gentle resting of your head. Your curls never graced the back of my chairs. Cant you see? I never let you in. I never loved you. I was naive; a crazed teenage girl with a sick infatuation, and that's it. That's all it ever was.

I am made up of so many little pieces collected from train stations and the posts of bed frames.

I have a love-hate relationship with my life. At one moment, I can be content and as happy as the waves when they meet the shore, but then I can switch completely and I start remembering everything you ever did to me. Your long fingers and the way you swept your hair out of your eyes. I hate everything about you, especially how you left me to rot in my own misery. I loved you. I loved your luster for life, I loved your infectious laugh. You used to make me smile, now you just make me punch my pillow in anger wishing my fists were hitting your face. How could you? How could you just walk away? I was putty in your hands, you could have molded me into something beautiful, but instead you made me ugly. Ugly and cold and bitterly hating your memory.

I can hardly sleep at night with your face so deeply etched into the back of my eyelids. You haunt my every dream, and I often awaken with clenched fists and a tight jaw. How could you? How could you just walk away? My bones ache for your affection, my fingertips long for your skin.

How could you?

How could you just walk away?

Wow so my father just took away my medication because he thought I was going to kill myself over my current living situation. Really? Fucking, REALLY? That hurts. Hurts deep. Thank you very fucking much for your concern, but this just proves how much you DON'T KNOW ME. I'm over that shit, okay? I did my time getting my head fixed and I don't appreciate what you're trying to do here. From now on, I will control my medication, and you will leave me the hell alone. Goodnight.

Getting this on my skin as soon as possible.