“I don’t want to start over…only to end up a broken mess. I can’t imagine what happiness looks like, I can only imagine an ending where I’ve failed again..”

So, what now? I’m at a tipping point, and I don’t want to spend another year, another summer, another second, wasting away. I want to be done dreaming. I want to see my world for what it is, and not what my pride twists it into. I know I’m not worth anything, yet my greedy ass still wants everything. I’m not willing to work for any of my desires though. I’m a sloth when it comes to putting effort towards anything, so failure is assured. That just leaves me feeling empty, and so my gluttony works to fill me up with whatever my hands can grab hold of. And through all the trash being stuffed into my big mouth, the empty hunger shifts to primal desire, and I’m transformed into a red engine of lust. Nothing can stop me now as I tear through body after body, treating souls like snacks, not even bothering to enjoy the feeling, living only to quell this desire for more red. Time ticks away, leaving my bereft of company, and so my lust twists inward, corroding into an envy for the crimson beneath my skin. Nails attempt to peel back this shell, but they are too slow. Teeth attempt to rip away this husk, but they are too dull. My jealously tapers my desire into a fine edge, and from that edge is born a wrath for everything that is me. Nothing is safe from that hollowed point; it will continue to cut away at my threads until all that remains are loose ends, soaked in a bitter cherry. And in that pool, filled with the contents of my own bleeding heart, maybe I’ll find the piece of me that desired forgiveness, or the me that wished for a home, or the me that knew what it felt like to accept love…or maybe I’ll find more of the same, and I can be at peace knowing I carved out that monster all on my own…a feat I can finally take true pride in…