You, who stole everything.
You, who made me forgot
What it was like, to live, breathing
Became shorter, hurt was all I got.
Stop. The time ticks but I'm not.
I'm standing somewhere, out there
I'm singing but my voice cracked.
I'm dancing but every step
Everything, doesn't seem right.
I'm painting but my vision, black.
I tried, my hands reached out,
I call for you again and again.
But realization struck,
You're nowhere to be found,
And I'm still stuck. 

I scribbled the words as I drank my fourth coffee for tonight. Every idea, every word, every piece, I wrote down. I took a breath and puffed as if smoking. Why do I still feel heavy? Writing soothes me but not tonight and maybe, for the next days to come.

I curled up on my bed as if protecting myself, and fell into a deep sleep. Maybe I should try lucid dreaming again. I shifted, opened my eyes and suddenly, tears fell. Maybe because today marks my most unforgettable day, the day I became who I am, who I truly am. I cried. My youth, my dreams, everything were shattered like a glass hit by a strong force. That force was them, those who drove my demon to surface, and hell it was that casted upon them. I cried. Maybe they were right, I'm a bastard who doesn't know his place. Maybe it's because I wasn't raised right that I became like this, someone who's to be wary of. I cried. I felt the anger inside, as if whispering to me to let it out, go berserk and destroy - the only thing I'm good at. But not tonight, I suppressed my anger, calmed it down and it did. I cried. Now misery emerged, telling me to accept that I will be alone forever in this darkness. That I should just be one with darkness, but I refused. I became hopeful and I cried. Now happiness tried to sweet talk me, telling me that everything will be fine. I should find my true happiness and time will heal everything. But happiness forgot that time is sometimes a , that it may or may not heal you - hence, just hurting you more. It's as if time pours salt into your wounds, rubs it good and sticks knives deeper than before. I cried.

Knives...
Right, I should settle this with my longtime friend, my only companion.
1, 2, 3 cuts, I lost count of it all. The scars and wounds a week old were welcomed by the light. And as if missing it, I touched these wounds, whispering hellos and snickering. And so it began.