Everyday she feels more empty than the last,
Feeling as though her soul is slowly being ripped away from her body
She’s trying to run without looking back but her past is starting to catch up to her,
Every piece of trauma, every memory, every abandonment,
Each one feels more piercing than the last, cutting internally the ways her razor blade had once did externally
She’s struggling to identify her emotions, and can no longer tell what’s real, and what is just a fantasy she has made up in her mind
Her mind
A twisted sense of reality, or what should be
But it is still the most comforting thing to her because in her own mind she can pretend she’s okay,
It is only here where she can live in the world she had created for herself so many years ago,
A world where no one ever walked out on her,
A world where all those horrible things that now haunt her had never happened

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