You made this place a cemetary. You made it a graveyard of the good, lovely memories that every pair of loved ones with their offspring usually share together. You layed down Our Foundation to crack and break in every direction, splitting in parts near every corner. In the middle there's a blackhole, and it sucks me in every time you rape the plastic card for white circular chalk in a bottle to suck down your esophagus, into your stomach. It'll boil and bubble into a rainbow and send euphoria through your bones. This is what you live for, and have always lived for.
I've asked myself countless times why I was put on this Earth. To merely live in the opposite shadow of your existance is not enough of a reason, and each time I am sucked into the black hole of Our Foundation, I am given a new reason why to live in the opposite shadow but it's about time I stopped learning and started living. I'm unsure as to why I am constantly given the same reasons for where I already am, as to why I am in this place already. I don't need any more examples or reasons. The reasoning is done with and it is over, I am who I am now and I am not you.
Is this enough to stop the hurting?
Is this enough to stop my heart from bleeding?
Is this enough to stop the tears?
Some say you have to care about someone to hate them, but I disagree. At the same time, I never really hated you but I never really loved you, either. Never enough for you not to fail. And I constantly found myself praying to God that you would change, that you would get through one day sober and stay that way for ever. But in those same hours, once dawn would split the sky and the sunlight poured over the world, you wouldn't be able to fight the urge. It would shake at your head and grip your skin. And you never learned how to become strong enough to bite that nerve in your spin, injected addiction into you more and more everyday to tell you and whisper to your bones that the sweet marrow swimming needed to be intoxicated to wake up every morning to operate.
And yet you are invincible.
Why the fuck do you have the right to drive straight into Fate's demise and still have one breath kicking in your lungs? And who the fuck do you think you are to act as if you can toy with human life but it is fragile for the rest of us? There is power in words, I've commanded you to die but you keep on breathing. Keep on living and keep on surviving. Everyone tells me that there is a reason for why you are here, that I should be grateful.
But how can I be grateful for something that only tears walls apart, shreds at my one and only life's heart strings, and pokes at tear ducts -- forcing me to vomit up the urge to surrender my shield and feel weak because some fucking cunt decided to create that percious zygote with a not-so-innocent but innocent-enough woman and give birth to an unfortunate life? Nobody can tell me that they understand because naturally I see, and naturally I know.
You probably told everybody the same thing. That you have changed. That some other magical bottle of circular white chalk has somehow removed that addiction from your bones and as you told yourself you were better and strong enough, you broke down more inside. And Addiction gripped it's claws deeper into your skin until you screamed for the euphoria to claw at you instead. When this happens, I can see your pupils dance and your iris becomes a wild fire -- you fiend for that bleeding sensation when Addiction's nails scrape at your skin, digging for your bones. And everyone believed you.
But they don't know you like I do.
Some people are bourne to self destruct. But not you. You were bourne to set timers for everyone else to implode, then explode until there's nothing but ash of our skin. Life is suppose to be precious. I don't believe you have life at all. When you were thirteen, you had died and your spirit is merely causing us pain; haunting us. You are dead wrapped up in fat, twisting reality and becoming the circumstance that stops everything.
I've tried to slap your hand away from my trigger. I've tried to use you as a picture on my wall to inspire me to become uninspired by you. And I've even tried to forgive you with a whole-heart and love you.
Everyone was wrong.
You will never change.
And I hope you die tonight.