I promise I'm trying to be good.

And this is my life.

I'm trying and trying and trying, but I just can't seem to get it right.

All the facial expressions that make me want to crawl around in your brain, try to figure you out. Everything is confusing, everything is wrong. Everything will pack itself up in a box in approximately 4.5 months and then I'll be gone to new places, new opportunities.

Why can't this change again, change for the better this time? I don't understand. Everything keeps changing, but it's never in my favor. I'm tired of all the glares, all the death thoughts scraping at my ears. The bitter words you stole, because they can't possibly be your own, sneak their way out of your mouth, into the air, and pierce me straight through the back, into my heart. They make me want to vomit and scream and throw things all at the same time. The tears are easily held back, as I try my best to channel the fury away from my mouth and refrain from letting it spill off my lips. It's not easy. 

So take your knife out of my back, don't twist it anymore, take it away and hide it somewhere no one will think to look, try to keep it there. I know I'm not the last it will pierce, but I can hope. Change your ways, maybe try something new, or be who you used to be. Either way would be better than this new you, the you I don't even know anymore.

I'll just sit alone on Friday nights with my earbuds embedded in my ears, and think about all the things I could be doing, without actually doing anything. Because thinking is better than anything else at the moment. And that's the way things have been for a while.

 

I'd rather be alone. (But not really.)




Forever Yours,
Rachel.