My bedroom is small, it heats up quickly. My hair is wet from the rain. Listening to music, I'm crushed with nostalgia. I don't understand how I could have listened to the same song less than four years ago, arms around my best friend, his breath on my face as he mascaraed my lashes, his fussy mannerisms, chewing his lip and smoothing his hair. The texture of his skin, pinky on his arms, the way he self conciously tugged his t-shirts over his belt. Big, tall. It hurts to think about him. How can this song still play when he is missing. Gone gone gone. I'd take a knife and cut off my own legs and arms to get him back. Anything. I can only keep every little memory safe, they're all I have now. That phone call changed me in so many ways. Since then I have done so many things I'm ashamed of. I can't trust myself any more. The nightmares pound me every night. They echoe through the day. Evil under my skin. I'm sorry mum, I'm sorry dad. The scars on my arm are spreading. I am a lego girl, numb. Moving stiffly through life. Paying the dealer my salary. Anything to not think. I'm just so afraid. I can't explain it. Maybe the statistics are getting to me. I feel like giving up. Merging with the cosmos where I can't hurt anyone, where I can't hurt myself. How could I do this to our family? They don't know, so they still love me. I'm no good with lies. It's hard to carry. But I'm so scared of seeing the knowledge on their faces. I have to keep lying. I make myself sick.