Root of the Problem

I’ve always struggled coming to terms with her death. I’ve never even begun fixing the root of all my problems. And at this point, I doubt I ever will. It’s clear to me now, as it was years ago, that if one death will push me off the edge, then it’s time to stop dancing around the inevitable.

I can’t sit around, waiting for my life to end. I can’t sit around, fantasizing about how everything could have been different. I can’t do this anymore.

She’s out there, somewhere, causing pain to everyone I’m supposed to protect. And I’m just here, writhing in the corner. I don’t want that for either of us.

I want her to feel my pain. I want her to suffer the consequences of her transgressions. I want her to feel guilt. I want her to feel anything. Just, fucking, anything.

I want to rip her mask off and truly see Fear in her eyes.

I want so much… too much. At this point, I doubt it matters what I really want, in complete terms. The only thing that will matter in the end is what sets me apart from everyone else around me…


I want to die.