I'm sorry, miss, but you are not right
Drowning in your own waters.
Feeble attempts to claw your way back up,
all put to waste by a movement of your mouth.
I hate that you have this control over me.
Over my thoughts.
Over the way I act.
Why did you have to pick me and not someone else?
You literally make me want to die.
And oh, the times I've tried.
The countless times I've been wretched from the comfort of a blackening mind."
I suppose I've slipped into another of those 'times', as they're called by others. Those times that all you can think about is pain, and how much you crave it. Call me insane, but I want that pain. I deserve to be punished. I need that fucking stimulation to feel alive. Otherwise, I'm just a shell. Nothing. I can't even keep myself company anymore; how sad is that?
I spend my days now teetering on the brink, on edge. But a wise cat once told me, "If you're not on edge, you're taking up too much space." I think I'm taking up too much space as it is. People have told me, numerous times, t