The eyes of my reflection staring back are no longer my own and the voices in my head sound less like mine. They are busy and shouting, deafening in their urgency. My breath comes in gusts and my heart threatens to break it’s cage. My skin burns with a thousand fire ants travelled from California with the sole intention of searing my flesh. I want to dig them out with my nails, it will feel like such a blissful release.
I just want to be alone. Where I can give in to self destruction because it makes me feel better.
I just want to be alone. Where my thoughts can hurt no one but myself.
If there is no one there to witness my suffering, would it really exist?
If there is no one there to hear me cry, am I really crying at all?