Leave

There are days where I realize how cruel I’m being, and how fucked up this is. How fucked up I am. And I realize I will end up eating my own heart, chewing with blood smears all over my mouth. I’ll eat the shriveled parts of my heart that have turned black, the rotted bits, the putrid aorta, the sour ventricles. And then there will be nothing left. It feels I’ve let this heart, this soul, this whatever-inside-me that’s supposed to be me rot, and I am now nothing, I am a shell, I am not real.