Fault

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  I never knew real pain until he left.
  I never want to feel it again.
  It's indescribable.
  He left me and I'm alone now.
  I did this.
  This is my fault.
  I can't open up so he left.
  I should have told him.
  I wouldn't have to feel real pain.
More, more, you deserve this.

  It's too late for that now, he's gone. He packed his bags and left. I'll be okay. I just need to be comfortable with talking. That's all. Maybe call him.
  "Hi"
  "It's only been one day"
  "Worst day of my life."
  "Are you ready to talk to me?"
  "I think so"
  "Okay, Adrian, when you stay up late at night, laying perfectly still, what are you thinking?"
  "How much I love you... and how much I hate me"
  "Dear god, okay. Why do wear long sleeves throughout the year?"
  "I hurt myself and I don't want you to see"
  "What do you do?"
  "Anything that'll inflict pain"
  I hear his cries even though he tried to silence them. It kills me. This is my fault too.
  "Is there anything I can do to get you to stop?"
  "Love me"
  "I do. Is the love I supply not enough?"
  "It is. I just, need to love me I guess"
  "I'm coming home"
  What is this feeling inside? Relief? Joy? I don't know, either way I love this feeling inside.
  "I love you so much"
  "I know, but you need to start giving some of that love to yourself." Then he hung up. The most terrifying and amazing phone call I've ever made.

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