The beast who feasted on me.

I can never get away from you, can I?

I never really got away.

All that running and I still ended up back in the same place.


Still dreaming of your face.

I never thought of you as the monster you were.

Never allowed myself to feel the hurt.

It was too much to bear–

what you did to me was too much to bear.

I would’ve crumbled into pieces.

I would have become nothing. I already felt like nothing.

“He was just lost”, that’s how I explain you to people.

What a fucking joke.

All the abuse, and all the lies, and I still lied for YOU.

Maybe it was for me. Who knows. That’s the thing with abuse,

you get so confused.

And it still haunts me.

At night.

In my dreams.

You come alive.

It all leads back to you

My monster.

My truth.


I love you. I’m scared you’re going to die. And I’m scared that I’ll never say this to you before you do. I worry about being too dramatic. How pathetic is that? I worry more about being over dramatic— while you remain killing yourself every day. Playing Russian roulette with a crack pipe. Which line will be lethal? Which relapse will be the last time?