Where ☹ Muke

XVIII ; i'm losing the best of me.

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I skimmed over the pages with close eyes only taking the time to really study the entries that caught my attention, well they all did but some were a bit more intense and they honestly killed my poor heart. The next one that happened to be a little too sad for me was two weeks later.

Dear Lukey,

Fuck life.

Like honestly I really hate it -- more than I hate my father. And you know exactly how much I hate him, that was one of the few things I actually told you during our late-night sob sessions. ( I really miss those ) Everything is pushing me past my limit and right now I feel like I'm on the edge. I honestly feel like there's a pit of darkness attempting to suck me in and right one the force is so strong, I don't know if even you could pull me back out. I guess you might want to know what really set me off, obviously I was bad before but something happened today that upset me.

So you know how I've been planning on coming to see you? Well today was the day I was supposed to leave. I'd had my bags packed and really talked for the first time today, see since I've gotten here I've learned it's best to keep quiet if you want our quicker. So you know, hearing me be outspoken was a big deal for everybody around me. Now you may ask "so why are you still in that idiotic hell?"

My moms a bitch, she's seriously the worst mother I could've asked for.

When the therapist called her asking if she was ready to pick me up what did she say?

"Who's Michael?"

She fucking forgot me, her one and only child, the same person she used to always gave a camera flickering around, the same person she made Sunday brunch with the same child she sung to sleep for six years. -- dear god luke tell me you didn't forget me too? Did you forget how we used to dance around to the most random pop music in tutus, did you forget how we'd play video games and I would do my victory dance as you pouted, did you forget how much I love you? Did everybody forget me? What about Ben, and Jack, or Liz? I hope she didn't forget me, she was my life support most of the time.

I know you never noticed but sometimes your mom would pull me to the side and pass me a freshly baked cookie before having me promise to tell her everything, and I trusted her enough that I let it all out. I told her how much my parents hated me ( not the abuse ) and how alone I felt even when I was in a crowd of people. I told her how people in school treated me, where they slammed my frail body to the ground and called me horrible names.

She followed me to the bathroom after I ate, not in the creepy stalker way but more as she new of my eating disorder and tried her best to soothe me. She would rub sweet circles on my protruding shoulder blades and hum lovely songs in my ear. Even though she knew of it she would attempt to get me to eat, even if it was a small apple or maybe a cookie -- but it's the effort she put out that counted.

Sometimes she held me when I cried, like a full out breakdown that I seemed to have too often. ( I don't do it anymore ) She would be my motherly figure who cared for me more than anybody, but even with her loving arms wrapped around me I didn't feel safe. Because those lanky arms wrapped around me weren't yours, you simply gave the best hugs even though you didn't understand my problems.

The thing I liked the most about her is she listened to my drag on and on about you, for hours I would tell her how perfect you were and she'd back my ideas up with embarrassing stories about you, it was amazing to be able to talk about you with her. She always said there's something about you that sparked something in me, and apparently I did the same for you. One say she made up the stupidest idea ever, I didn't talk to her for a few days until I broke down and and realized how bad I needed her.

She thought I had a crush on you.

That's such a silly assumption, I could never like you like that.

I don't know what I'd do without her, I already feel lost and insecure without you but now -- I'm a little too vulnerable and a tad bit broken, and I think you're really the only person who can piece me back together. But right now I'm a little shattered, far worse than ever before and well -- I don't know if even you can fix me anymore. But I have hope that when I come home you'll save me.

I just can't sand my mom right now.

I hate life so much, specifically mine.

Clean : don't ask
Weight : don't ask
Mood : don't fucking ask

With love,
Mikey xX

Ok, ow.

But the thing is I didn't stop reading, there were two years worth of entries and I wanted to read them all -- but I realized it would be best to wait on them. So I managed to put the ashy journal down on my beside table and turned over so I wouldn't be tempted to read anymore for tonight.

I would work a day by day process, and I would make it work. Meaning I would force myself to only read one page per day, no matter how badly I wanted to move forward and get to the end of his story.

Little did I know the events that took place throughout the journal would slowly bring me to a darker side of mind.