This is from December 26th, 2010.
Fucking hell. I probably should have listened to my first instinct.

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I am not exactly on cloud nine. Like I thought I'd be.
I'm not feeling girlish.
Because what if I am just your safety plan?
I have a feeling that you're unstable enough to use me in that way.
Even though I know you wouldn't realize it, it's what you're doing.

Maybe.

It's like I was sitting with a plate in front of me. And it was empty.
It was empty for a really long time, and when I pictured you on my platter,
you looked a lot tastier than you seem at the moment.
And now that you're there, you seem like you've been cut in half.
Like you have a huge hole where the hearty, tasty goodness used to be.

Whether I want to believe it or not,
life is not all about getting some for me.
I want you to taste and BE as delicious as you were a month ago.

I wish I could just rip you apart and devour you so you could always be mine, and I wouldn't have to worry about my plate anymore.
Because you wouldn't be in front of me, you'd be inside, sitting, swimming through me.

The back of my head feels like someone nailed a board to it.
That's the fear. It's laid it's egg right there in the back of me skull.
And I hope it doesn't hatch all over you tomorrow.

I'm so scared. I haven't been this scared in awhile.

I need to sleep.
No more of this drug of Sleep Deprivation.
No more.


Honey-sweetie-baby.
Is that what you want?
Well of course.
I'll do anything for you.