07/17/2008
I stand there with a cold blade in my hand
Running it up and down my wrist.
She stands there yelling at me, condemning me. Those cold, dead eyes staring at me, boring into me, killing me from the inside out.
I have a cold, steel blade in my hand, and she doesn't care. She doesn't blink. She doesn't stop her tirade for a single moment.
....
The aftermath, he tells me that she was not an abusive mother, that she was a good mother. That it's not up for discussion. She did not abuse me, and that's that.
They're both insane.
I've fallen down the rabbit hole, my own sanity skipping down the path with the white rabbit and cheshire cat.
And I'm terrified that I will never find it again.
idontpretend at 8:10 P.M.
Feeling:
Listening to:
Wanting: