Hey whore.

He’s my boyfriend, not yours. Did he not make it perfectly clear that he hates you already?
You’re really starting to piss me off…

Goodbye.

I’m sorry. I really did try my best.
I love you.
It’s just better this way…

Sorry.

Shut the fuck up.

“I know exactly what you’re going through.” No. You fucking don’t. You have no idea. To only associate places and memories with the nearest attack. It can’t be that bad, right? Clawing at your own fucking skin. Sick to your fucking stomach. Cold sweats at night. Your stomach eating you from the inside out. Drugs? They don’t help anymore. Screaming? You’re just the lost little girl that everyone gave up on. You let this rule out your whole entire “life.” Or shall I say lack of one? You’re avoiding things, because they bring death to you. But not the good kind of death. The death that goes on and on. The death that doesn’t let you die. No peace comes with this death. Not even in the slightest. You’re afraid to be alone. Because one of you is saying this and the other is saying that. It’s a constant battle between the two. Each tugging you in opposite directions; ripping your fragile stiching just barely keeping you together. One noise. One look. One thought. It can be triggered by anything. And you’ll never know. It’ll grab you and shake you. Shake everything in your life until it’s all broken. No one can help you. You’re hurting everyone. You’ve been there and back and you are still as fucked up as before. If not more. Suddenly, you can’t breathe. You lose grip on whats real. You can’t control your body. You can’t control your actions. There are no consequences. Suddenly. It’s all gone. Let go. Let go. Let go. Let go. Let go. Please, just do everyone a favor and Let go.