They told me repeatedly,
with their baited breaths and angular track marks,
'This is not an exit, darling.'
But I refused to heed,
drunkenly grasping for another line and slicing open my flesh in the process.
I would careen to the floor writhing and vomit blood into the hands of my saviors.
I'd laugh and repeat over and over:
'You never loved me, you never loved me.'
What is my problem?
My problem is:
I never had one,