My mind, it’s a dangerous thing. It goes places it shouldn’t, and often lingers in them.
It goes back to memories, ones I wish I could forget: A dark and dusty room that would be the first of many broken pieces of me; a cemetery with too many people that managed to feel like the emptiest place on earth; trapped in a small dark closet; a blade piercing my skin; blood on my hands not my own; and how the light faded from eyes staring into mine.
Too many places, each darker than the last. The more I try to leave it all behind the more these memories seem to haunt me. To taunt me.
But lately, I wish it wouldn’t, but too often it goes back, replays us. Trying to figure out when and how things got to the way they did. Always trying pinpoint the thing I did, the thing I said that set the end in motion. Did I know the consequences when I did or said it?
My mind gets so lost in you, completely and utterly. Distance has not mended these memories, time has not dulled this ache.
And so softly, slowly, it feels like my mind is killing me, and all I can seem to do is is wonder – how can I help it along today.
But it’s ok… this is just like every other day.