on friday night, i’ll find myself wide awake in bed. and it’s 1am, or something like that… i don’t know. i don’t have a fucking clue anymore. foggy head and pounding heart; little broken glass pieces smiling up from the kitchen floor.
and it finds me wandering through public parks and overpriced cafes. on early morning bus rides, final exams and rainy days.
makes my hands shake as i hold the kitchen knife. and it’s strange, and cold, and it’s not mine. so i just kinda… go away for a moment, there. and i scream, and i shout, but i don’t make a sound. and anyway, no one cares.
it follows me home from the bus stop; slips into my coat pocket. watches carefully, and takes notes. i’m never really safe, these days. never truly alone.
it pins me to the ground; its breath is warm on my cheek. and i kick. and i scream at the top of my lungs. think it’s 1am, i don’t know. i’m sorry for waking you. i’m sorry you have to feel my pain, ride my fucking lows. i never wanted to hurt you.
i just don’t know who else to turn to.
and i’m really scared. i don’t know what to do. so lie through your teeth; tell me it’s all gonna be okay, because i can’t breathe, and i’m bleeding out on the floor, and you say something about trees, and offer to call an ambulance.
but this just happens, sometimes. and it’ll be all right soon.