I am so filled with wrong I don’t remember what right is.

I wonder if anyone gets through childhood without being broken. I certainly did not.

I wash myself clean of guilt, of pain, of fear, of emotion. I am the ocean. I am empty. I am nothing.

I’ll be fine. I’m always fine.

I am a girl in want of complete destruction.

My bed is massive (I drown in it, and it doesn’t matter how big the bed is, my nightmares more than fill it)

I think happy thoughts and feel happy things and I do not let myself near the swirling black edges of the hole that is my soul when I look at them.

I don’t want to think about things like normal and safe, things I can’t have.