my brain is scattered on my bedroom floor and i am trying to pick it up. i'm smoking a cigarette next to my window and i'm sure i could cry because i hate the way i think. i hate the way i think that putting my fingers in your mouth to shut you up will make me hurt so much less than i do.
i blow the smoke out of my mouth and my eyes are getting more painful. there is smoke in them. there is also the thought that maybe i deserved it. maybe i deserve when you did all those things to me. why does the thought of grabbing your neck and making you feel the same pain i did hurt me so much. why don't i want to hurt you. you did so much to me.
now my cigarette is finished and i remember when you put yours out on my leg. you were sick. and now i'm sick. and it's all your fault. don't you understand that? i wish i could leave you 100 voicemails telling you it's your fault. or maybe i think normally. maybe it's normal for me to want you to hurt the same way i did. but why do i feel guilty for it.
why did you make me like this.
