8:56 PM

i hate home. gosh. i hate it so bad. i hate it. i hate it. i hate it.

Maybe not so much the house, but the whole idea of having a place called home. It's pretty crappy if you ask me. It's just redundant. Nowhere is home for me. It's just a name someone before me placed over. It has no meaning.

I don't feel anything. Well, not anymore actually. I guess I used to, but I don't remember any of that feeling. Just my screaming and someone else's resounding in my ear.

It's cold sometimes. And I wake up in the dead night breaking into fits of anxiety. The fear of a repeating past slowly creeping behind. I'm no longer mental. But sometimes, I do get the feeling that I am.

I know how sealing emotions and thoughts can do to someone. The mental images that playback over and over again. Vivid visuals of something happening, of which I am the villain, and many others the victim. Mind games, probably. But it's so real, the blood on your hands drip, forming a pool of dark liquid colour. Then you realise it's not a dream. You actually did it.


did they tell you i'm all banged up inside?