She wants me to apologize.
To take back what I said because she "knows" I didn't mean it.
She doesn't know why I said it, says she couldn't think of any reasons.
Says someone has to have done something extremely awful to deserve those words.
Says she knows me and there's no way I meant that.
She's wrong.
I meant it.
I feel it.
It consumes every fibre of my being and in fact it's the only reason I'm still living.
Payback. Revenge. One day I'll get it.
That was just a trigger, this morning, I wasn't mad about that, I was mad about the past, about everything.
Is driving someone to take a blade to their skin awful enough?
Is driving someone to place a piece of burning metal on their flesh awful enough?
What about driving someone to shove their finger down their throat?
Or maybe, maybe driving someone to write countless notes that start with don't look because by the time you find me I'll be dead awful enough?
And if it's not, is the fact that I have planned out so many different times and ways and places to leave and never come back awful enough?
She says she knows me and there's no way I meant that.
There's one flaw, she doesn't know me. She knows the me I want her to know, the me everybody else knows.
There is only one person who knows the truth, me.
I'll never tell and she'll never know just how wrong she is.
She wants me to apologize.
Maybe I will, but it won't change, can't change how I really feel.
We're far past the point where we could have fixed this problem.
I said "I hate you" to the man I am forced to call my father, and I have never meant anything so much.
