Who What When Where Why How

Who wounded you enough that picking targets to retaliate against is a game to you and their destruction is your level up? It’s like your only way to survive is to tear life out of others and exist off their desperation for your attention and help, even though you’re the one who made them this way in the first place. What about me is not valid enough to you that you feel the need to shove your opinion down my throat as if I haven’t heard enough of it? It’s like a force feeding of acid that deteriorates my heart and flows out my eyes when you leave. When did it ever become okay to walk through my chain-locked door, then break the hinges off when you leave so it’s now agape? It’s like you planned on leaving so you had your tools ready in advance, prepared to destroy me in the most efficient way possible: letting the draft in and my vulnerability out. Where did the empty look in your eyes come from? It’s like your mind and heart were squeezed until your spirit poured out with the strength of a dam and was collected into a disposable cartridge and was quickly burned through by the fire of abandonment. Why did you turn your back and walk away even though I was screaming your name with such intensity that windows three blocks down shattered? You stabbed a knife through your own heart so you wouldn’t feel the same agony as me, and any screaming from me sounded like a whining child who has lost their candy. How can a dream feel so real that when I’m at the bottom of a swimming pool I still inhale water when I breathe and wake up choking? It’s like my mind is so accustomed to pain that it confuses dreams with reality and drowning makes sense in the muddled state of unconsciousness.