You’re a ghost.

I started this blog to write. Not to show you some creative side (really because there isn’t one), but to let my heart leak onto a place no one will really care about and I can walk away slightly lighter. So here. I’m going to write my heart.

You haunt me every. single. day.

Surely you must know that. Surely you feel the tension pulsing across the thousands of miles between us. You must sense it. You’d be an idiot and fool not to. And while  you can be so very unwise, I know you are no fool.

How is it, despite all the miserable pain and scarring we have caused each other, I miss you? But I tell myself, I miss the idea of you. I would be completely insane to actually miss YOU. Really, how could I? I know that with everything inside you, you hate me. You hate me more than you will ever hate anything in your life. Somehow there is a side of me that is glad for that. It means no awkward meetings between us. It means I don’t have to pretend that every time you talked my heart screamed and pulled at the cage bars.
Not only do you hate me, we were never actually friends those last several months. You never really let me in and when that clicked I started shutting you out. I took the alleys. I kept my shrieking thoughts to myself and hoped that my body would be able to contain them. (has it you ask? No. I am shriveling away. There may be a smile on my face and a laugh upon my lips, but I am shriveling. Look closely, love.)

I miss me. Really. I miss me so bad sometimes I become physically sick and I’m positive someone is going to see the acid boiling and my heart snapping all over again. I miss the girl who didn’t have a string of people behind her who she had hurt one way or another. I miss the girl I was before the dark night where innocence was devoured by a rabid beast and the fragile, once child, left to try and recover. I miss the girl who had no enemies and prided herself in that. The girl who was constantly trying to make sure everyone else was OK before herself.
I miss my friends’  old selves too.

No one is the same and that, more than anything, kills me inside. We all changed so much that it seemed like with a blink of the eye, we had all turned on each other, ripping each other’s lives and hearts apart till we were left in a broken cluster of once close friends, heaving heavily after our manic attacks against the people we once called friends.
You know, after all this, I don’t trust anyone. Whenever I look at someone, I INSTANTLY think, “How will you hurt me? What will you do to rip me apart?” I over analyze everything, everyone says. I dig through their words and wonder what they hide from me that could hurt me.

I’m scared. I’m scared to laugh, I’m scared to tell someone my deepest feelings, I’m scared to make friends, I’m scared to let go of the few old ones. I’m terrified of letting go, mostly because I haven’t the slightest clue how! I am caught in a cage that is half my own making and the walls I built surrounding myself are solid and I only bang against them fruitlessly.
Oh how I wish I could say a lover caused this all. That my heart breaks over some man who left me dragging my useless heart strings me behind me.
But I can’t.
It was a friend.
And that only makes it a million times worse.

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