Stuck. Rusted. Torn. Shuttered. Useless. Withdrawn.
A scratched record.
This is my punishment. All those nights I couldn't wait up, now I never sleep. All those feelings I never made tangible, all those unspoken words--now I'm choking on my own word vomit and drowning in my own tears. God forgive me. This pain I do not dull with drugs or alcohol. I've experienced it. I've sat with it. But when the fuck does it end.
And why does he punish me like I've cut out the others that really fucking hurt me. What did I ever do to deserve that? What, God? I don't understand it. I don't understand. I loved him so much.
The record catches skips and hums: love, love, love. I want to carve a hole in my chest to make it as empty as I feel.
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