in·san·i·ty | B.E (HIATUS)

1- Billie

She didn't come to visit me once. She didn't stop by with flowers, she didn't come and sit by me. She didn't show up at all, ever.

It hurt, but I guess everything happens for a reason. She never loved me. She never cared enough. To her, I am dead. My body could've actually been under that gravestone, yet she wouldn't even bother to come visit me. She didn't fucking care. Not at all.

I stopped expecting her to come, faced with the harsh reality I'd never see her again. It hurt, but I don't feel it anymore. I decided to spend time with myself. As time went on, I realized the girl they meant to bury and the girl who never died in that fire were two completely different people.

So, I went over and paid my old self a visit.

The headstone was pretty. It seemed to shine in the light. I liked the way it felt against my fingers. Smooth and cold. It made me sad for the girl buried underneath it. She was sad, and she deserved more than she got. She was sick, and she died because she couldn't handle the cards she was dealt. Looking at her headstone makes me more grateful to be alive. My life is only as bad as I make it. I'll survive because she couldn't. I'll live- and I'll do it well.

With a last look at my headstone, I turned away and never looked back. I didn't know where I was going, I don't know where I'm going. I'm on a train now, to Nevada. What the hell am I going to do there? I don't know. But I'll figure it out. I spent months waiting, using gym showers and spending money that wasn't mine on stupid shit to disguise myself. I cried and I panicked and I waited for her, for him, for anyone to come visit me.

I guess I don't matter as much as I thought I did. 

I was going to stop writing here but I realize that I feel happy today. I feel very sad, but so happy.