I fell apart back in 2007. It's hard to believe I was only eleven. See there's something that happens when a human soul is torn apart, these are the tragedies from which is born art that will touch other souls similarly broken, through magical words that are magically spoken.
For us, healing is feeling.
Look, I miss you and love you and I wish more than anything that I could kiss you and hug you. You were all I ever really had. You were the only thing that made life worth living, so it's not a surprise that you're the only thing worth missing.
See, you and I were on our life's boat sailing, but I couldn't save you when your lifeboat was failing, and now my heart is left broken and ailing as memory after memory comes crashing and railing against my brain. And now every day is filled with darkness and rain, and I try to use it to wash out this stain, but your stain will remain, forever etched on my heart, and even now that we are torn apart, I know that I will carry your heart and honor you with my art.
You were the best thing that ever happened to me. You were the best thing but I never happened to see it at the time, but who can blame me? All I could do was weep and mime because I didn't have a single word to say, I could not use words in the artistic way that I use them now-back then, I didn't know how. And it's cruel that the world would attack me at an age so young and vulnerable, other kids my age had lives like a carnival, yet there I was overcome by grief. While they would climb trees I'd study a leaf.
I still don't know how to get over the loss of you. While others may grieve for a year or two, I'm gifted with the curse of forever feeling, forever reeling, from heartbreak as my heartache never ends and my spirit never bends back to its proper place, there simply isn't enough space because this sadness is overcrowding every inch of my being, inching toward my spirit, by now it's right near it, and I am forced to scream because once more I am trapped and all my energy is sapped and I must face you again with no strength from within. Why do you continue to torture and haunt? You leave me for sure gaunt, leaving me hollow. So why do I look back and see you still follow? What else is there? By now I haven't a single care, yet you cruelly hold my stare as if there is somehow more you could take.
Although there is one thing... if you would just spare me this ache, but alas, that is the one thing you left here. The one thing you gave me was pain and fear, and somehow you made them one and the same. I know other people separate them by name but you have created this fusion in order to create confusion so no one would understand me. And no one could understand me. I am different-forced to be indifferent by this anhedonia, mix in a little bit of catatonia and now I'm a concoction of diagnoses instead of a person. And for three long years each condition would worsen while you pulled the strings in my life, dropping in misery, anguish, and strife, but one day I'll find the strength to fight against everthing. Mark my words, I will.
But what rhymes with everything?