I miss the blood and the pain trickling from the open gashes you put in my skin. I miss seeing the streaks of dripping crimson, I miss the release, I miss the escape. You are like a lost lover, and as pathetic as it sounds, I grew to love you for always being there when I had no one to turn to. I knew I could run to you when pain was building up inside me. You could always bring it to the surface. I loved your abuse, I loved your anger, I loved your darkness. I pushed you away and I forced you out because people -- strangers, told me you weren't the angel I thought you were. They finally think I've gotten over you. They're wrong. I want you back more than ever, but I know I can never have you again.
Life is getting hard. There are days when I want you so badly. Questions, thoughts, and feelings I can't explain are dragging me down. I can't talk to anyone -- that's why I wish I had you here. I need your brutality, your insensitivity, your thousands of contradictions. I don't know what will happen to me without you. I hate you for leaving. I hate myself for pushing you away.
