DISCLAIMER: Birds of Prey ain't mine.
Rip, crush, tear, burn, fall, break …..stop.
I live with an English major and yet I never knew that so many words could describe the thing I want to do more than anything right now.
I am the daughter of water and fire and yet all I want to do is fall apart when I should be canceling myself out.
That doesn't even make sense. Am I high?
Probably.
I don't remember anything right now other than the fact that I'm angry enough to spill an ocean of blood, my own included, and in enough pain that I want to curl up and scream until my vocal cords shatter into a million tiny pieces that pierce my throat like slivers of glass.
Yeah, I'm probably high. Oh well, fuck it, it's not like she'd give a damn.
That's not true.
She cares, cares too much about the raging animal I have become, about how I am searching for something, anything, to make me numb and make me forget.
She's all that's keeping me alive, but the lifeline gets more frayed every day and I know it's only a matter of time until I just snap and plummet over the edge as she screams my name.
I wonder if she would still need me without that bullet in her spine.
Probably not; she's always been strong, never needing anything but her own strength to keep her going, except if that's gone now and I'm all she has, what does that make me?
Her strength?
Ha, that's a good one.
Like I could keep her alive when every day I wrestle with the impulse to take all of her sleeping pills and shove them down my throat.
I wonder if she feels the same.
The thought terrifies me.
I need her.
She knows that.
What if it's not enough?
God, don't leave me.