Self-destructive.

That's the best explanation I can give,

what this knot in my stomach feels like,

this squeeze in my heart.

Burn it to the ground,

that's what my mind whispers to me.

This is how I protect myself,

set on fire anything within in arms reach.

Anything that doesn't… quite sit right.

Why are there always so many questions?

Burn it to the ground.

It all sounds too fucking familiar.

It sounds like hidden phone numbers and changed names.

It sounds like locked doors at the bottom of the stairs.

It sounds like a life you keep hidden from the rest of the world.

It sounds too fucking familiar. I have heard this before.

What is happening to me?

How did he come back?

But he doesn't look the same?

How did I become so god damn silent?

Where is my backbone, my fearlessness,

where is the hurricane girl who conquers the world?

Which version of me is real?

What is happening to me?

I can't even look at you anymore.

It hurts me to look at you.

All the wondering,

all the uncertainty is killing me.

I am rotting from the inside out.

I don't want to be poison anymore,

I don't want to have to cover myself in thorns to protect what lies within.

I am kind, and I am sweet, and I am capable of loving so intensely.