i am her, and she is me

By bek    bek

shot in both kneecaps, tied up, and left for dead. every time. i'd like to blame this on bad habits or a rough childhood or a sickness in my head that i can't control, but really, the fault is my own. not mine, but mine, y'know? there's this girl who sleeps inside me and she only ever makes an appearance when i am nearing that figurative dawn, when i am close. so close. out of the frying pan and back into the frying pan because she won't let me leave. this girl, she's always in my way. and she always finds a way to block my path without me even noticing until the clock has run out and i still haven't reached my destination. only then do i realize that she's been turning me around in circles or freezing my movement this whole time. she is clever and ruthless and driven. she likes to destroy the things she creates and she smiles when she shows me the ashes of countless bridges, constantly burning. she's not the kind of opponent you can outsmart or outrun. trying to win is exhausting and effortful and you'd almost rather just stand still in the dark, go nowhere, and let her sleep than try and beat her at a game who's rules she constantly changes. she's untrustworthy, reckless, and she's toxically addicted to her own pain and suffering. you would think she'd get bored. after all, where i go, she goes. so where i stay, she stays. but it's impossible for her to tire of this existence because there are infinite ways to hurt a human being and she loves the sound of her own screams. im stuck with her. we'll go nowhere together forever because i am her. and she is me. and if i ever try to make a move i end up here: shot in both kneecaps, tied up, and left for dead. every time.

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