So much time has passed yet the wounds are still present and clear; they still ache and heave with every blink, every breath, and every slight movement I take. I know that it may seem better: that my flinches have gotten less severe, that my screams have gotten less piercing and less frequent but they are still there. I am telling you they are still there, they still work through my bones and my blood to control me. Sometimes I can even feel them in the deepest corners of my mind.

It's kind of eerie that way. I don't know how something can feel so real for someone, yet not to anyone else. No-one else has any proof that I am hurting. They can only go by what they see, and who's to say what they see is true? How is it that I can be so certain? How is it that someone can be there a month ago, a day ago, a second ago and then just be ...gone? Like death? How is there something in humanity that is as permanent as death?

How is it that I loved you with every inch of my soul and every word I ever uttered while you maybe never loved me? It was real for me.

So much time has passed and yet, I still sit here in the same hall I have always sat, eating the same food I have always had that I can't even seem to taste anymore, holding the same conversations I have always held. So much time has passed and yet the only thing that my mind is still lingering on is… is you.

You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You.

I wonder where you are. I wonder what you are doing; I wonder how you are, how you feel, whether you're laughing, whether you're eating, whether you're happy - without me.

The concept of you is like a shawl of breeze around me that follows me everywhere: from the confines of the shower walls and this prison to my dreams and my hopes. How do you do it Piper? You don't even belong here anymore.

I want to forget about you. You drive me fucking insane in every fucking sense, but the worst part is I can't tell whether I'm self-destructive or whether you're destructive.

You make it so hard for me to stay, but you make it even harder for me to leave - as if leaving wasn't already hard enough. I wish I could show you all the fires in me, and I wish you could understand how much I need to walk away from you since you only ever want me when it suits you and it's always been this way.

I wish you would understand that you were once like the sun, the moon and the ocean for me. I don't want to keep waiting on you but we feel so unfinished.

Sitting here, staring at the faces of all the people I love inside this literal prison I am in (the faces of the people who have done so much for me), I can't seem to shake my mind off the fact that I love you more than them. I love them so much; I love them so much I would die for each and every single one of them. Yet, I still love you more?

What does this mean? Is there anything I would not do for you? Is there even anything more I could even do within the realms of possibility that I wouldn't do for you?

People in this prison – they are not criminals. They are human beings, not animals. They are misunderstood, not animals. They are hope, not danger.

I see all the good in all these faces around me, and I can't help but wonder what people see when they look at me. What they see behind my bloodshot eyes, behind the lines of stress on my face, the pink shape of my lips, my glasses, my pale skin, me. Do they see the sadness that traces my being? Do they see you in everything that I do? Do they see loneliness?

I wonder whether my soul is seeping out from any part of my physical body, I wonder whether they can sense that I have a terrible need for affection, but an even bigger need to give it. I wonder whether they pity me.

I would be sad to leave any of these people behind. It feels like leaving is just shorter term for turning my back on each soul that lingers here. These people are not danger, these people are not criminals. These people are my family and I wish that I could protect them, give them all that they deserve.

So much time has passed and yet I am still here with the fire that lingers on each part of my skin ever since the last time I saw you. Memories of you still haunt me in the darkest of nights, and the fire I feel is growing stronger for every minute that I am not with you. I can't put it out with my blood or my tears; I can't even put it out with the sea.

So much time has passed and tomorrow is the day I get out

I actually had this written and ready to post months and months ago but I just never posted it.