Lining of Her Heart

I hate thinking about them. I can't stand to hear any of their names. Cause it reminds me of how I betrayed them, and myself. How do I know if that stuff is actually true? It was a choice between my mom and my best friend. Yet I chose the person who made me feel like dirt for who I am rather than the person who listened to me the most. I feel so guilty, so stupid. Like I just gave in to my mom and sacrificed the person who understood everything about me.

Tears race to the pillow as I lay against the dryer fresh sheets. If I message them, I'll lose the little trust that stands between my mother and I, down the drain. They've unintentionally forced me to ruin my social life, and almost life in general. They're like a drug. But rehab doesn't exist for this kind of drug.

I feel like the thoughts that run around and leap over the cells in my brain are traveling down the blood stream all the way to my heart, just to tear out tissue piece by piece. That tissue has all seven of that family sewn into the squishy lining. Their faces fade as they're shoved down to be stomped on and thrown around inside of me. But the ink of memories always reappear with the same unforgettable sting, stopping the circulation of happiness through my body. The rusty gears of energy slowly come to a halt as I lay motionless, staring at the ceiling of my dark room.

Some days it's like she's here in spirit, even though her heart still beats each minute. I wish I could feel her touching my hand as I lay in this empty room. I wonder and worry about her every time she jogs past my mind. How fast does her heart beat now with the girl who appreciated her like no one else, just left without a legitimate reason. - Does she feel the sting of my face in the lining of her heart?