“Bye,” we say coldly to each other. The absence of “I love you,” dragging me back; back into the cold, harsh reality of my life.
You don’t see my hand shake as I struggle to hang up. You don’t hear me whimper after line dies. I don’t know what else to do, other than hope you hate me enough to never talk to me again.
I wish a lot of people hated me that much right now. It would be a small penance for what I’ve done, at least.
I keep telling myself I’m doing the right thing; that I’ve made the right choice. But I can’t lie. That voice; that fucking voice.
-Run away. Get high. Fuck consequences. Fuck empathy and compassion. Run from the pain. Run from the guilt. Get high. No one loves you. No one loves you but me. And I’ll be the only one to ever love you.
What the fuck am I doing? All I’m doing is swapping an orange pill for a fucking white one.
-What a fucking self-righteous charade.
The voice hasn’t gone away.
-You’re an addict. You always will be. Fucking junkie. Stop lying to yourself. Just run away. Escape. I’ll take away the pain. I promise.
The voice isn’t going away.
-No one really loves you. You fuck-up. Who would love someone like you? A thief. Fucking lying, junkie thief.
-I’m the only one who will never hurt you. I promise.
Someone please, make it stop. I don’t want to run anymore. I’m tired and I’m sore and I just want to hug someone.
Please.
My chemical romance is cheating on me. And I’m scared of letting go.
