Has anyone ever seen inside my head? Children crying, flashes of unexpected lightening during the middle of a bright sunny day, mice chewing my brains into pieces, one thought at a time, one thought at a time. And over and over and over and over until I am too numb to feel it. Too numb to know. Too numb to care. Hating and chaining and hurting and killing over and over and over until I'm so broken and bruised you'd swear my skin was naturally black and blue. Naturally twisted and deformed. Naturally insane. Then there's even more. And the barrages of this repetitive insanity keep beating me everyday. And it won't stop. The permanent damage will not go away, ever again. Do I want it to go away? Because without familiarity, I'll lose. I'll fall and I'm afraid I won't ever be able to get back up ever again. I'd rather be bruised and standing then broken and fallen. Broken and fallen. It scares me. Beyond everything. Beyond even the edges of this 'verse. It terrifies me.

Then you came in. You calmed all the insanity. Made my twisted words and phrases flow. Made me almost sane. Almost. But that permanent damage won't be undone. It won't. It can't, it won't and not even you can heal me that great. You are made of sunshine and strawberries. I'm nothing but a cold, harsh, river. A flowing River. Forever your River.

But you won't ever see me. You love someone else, and I know that your love will never change for them. It makes me cry. Makes them ask if I'm alright. They're another, older, safer haven for me than you. But you are strawberries and sunlight. They are warmth. There is a difference. I know them more then I know you. But there's always time to learn.

And then, their haven wasn't big enough. And I didn't want to go to them. They had suffered so much, just because of me. They gave up everything, fortune, future and family, just to save me. They loved me more than they loved you, until they realized that I wasn't that important. Once everything fell into place. Once the truth came out. And I still felt as insane. I didn't have that secret of death ripping at my insides, screaming through my mind, trying to claw it's way out of my skin, but I was still screwed. The permanent damage will never be undone. That secret tortured me daily. And when something set me off, and after my rage had been calmed, they asked me something about it. I still remember my words.

Put a bullet to me. Bullet in the brainpan. Squish.

But they refused to give me an escape. I think they needed me more then I needed them. Or maybe just the same amount.

The then knew my secret was about death. No. Not my secret. A secret that I heard the voices in my head whisper such a long time ago. Three long years ago. How I wish it was still those three years ago. I was so charming. So bright. So innocent. So naïve.

And they wanted to know who's death my secret was about. That's when I started laughing hysterically. That's when the demon came out. She forced her way out, to torture them. To scare them.

EVERYBODIES!!!!!

And then, our world unraveled. Only two were claimed by the war that followed. Really lucky for us, considering the numerous deaths on the other side. Sides. We fought like the middleman. One side, after me and my first safe haven, to torture me. To play with my mind. The other just bloodthirsty, wanting to tear our flesh off and sew our skin into their clothing. They wanted us alive when they ate us. I wonder which side would have been worse to us. One were barely human. One weren't. And the barely human ones were only that way because of the non-human ones.

Despite everything, the death, the uncertainty, that all to present insanity, we made it through. And good things happened afterwards. There was you finding your true future with them. There was some grieving, though everyone managed to hold on. There was me finding a temporary place in this mismatched family. My new family. You, my haven, and everyone else. Life continues. Everyone seems happier. More hopeful. But maybe that's an illusion. I bet she doesn't feel better. I bet she misses her husband who died. I bet she still cries, when she's away from everyone. When she doesn't have an image.

I wonder if that means anything at all. But I still have fits where I feel trapped. Dreams with needles, anesthetic daydreams. Needles in my eyes. Putting me through old nightmares again and again until they were satisfied with the answer. It needed to compute. Needed to fit perfectly into the equation to get the desired sum. But I'm not like that anymore. I can dance, sing, do anything with as much grace and talent as I want to, but I'm not the same. I'm not a doll anymore. Maybe I am, but I'm a walking talking rag-doll, stumbling on clumsy legs. Though I have hope this time.

You are strawberries and sunshine. Sunshine and strawberries. As bright as the sunshine, as sweet as the strawberries. My old (yet always comforting) haven is warmth. So warm and kind to me, always ready to help me, even if I teased, screamed at or even beat them. I bet you would do the same. I won't ever stop being your or they're River. Never will I stop being someone's River.