I don't want to feel bad for them. They're angered by my desire to play, but I've been there. Latching onto an idea, only to continuously patch as they destroy.

I feel sorry. Then I remind myself, I felt sorry when I was the one being used as well. There are no winners in this game, I suppose. I'm drained and tired and unhappy. It's addicting and any little high will do. Pushing my luck on the open road, walking into unknown units, being the C I was supposed to be. She's wild and adventurous. She's sassy and smart. She laughs and holds her own. She's C, and she takes no shit. She's C, and she cries herself to sleep as he sings lullabies. She's C, and it's all just emptiness. Funny how my choices boomerang back, twisted and ruined, relying on me to straighten them out. It's funny how they all seem nice, but the truth is I don't think I care anymore. I am looking for the end. Who will be my last movement? When I no longer have anything left to fight for. Who will be the push it takes. For me to scream or just to jump [off a bridge, he said].


The empty words of a grey memory. Rehearsed, pretty little nothings. Thank you, I say cringing all the while. Lies are easy for all of you, aren't they? I won't tell any of you that you're anything to look at. I'm going to wrap you in my arms and hold you so tight, so...lovingly, but when you want me most I WILL FUCKING GUT YOU. I WANT TO WATCH YOU BURN.

4/25/19