you always went for my friends and not for me

I think I'm losing it.

I can think properly anymore.

It's like every single emotion has been bottled up like a bung in a test tube and the unlabelled solution is forcing its way between the gap of the two pieces of equipment. Pressure in my temples building up shows how violent it's getting.

I don't know what I'm thinking half the time.

I forget how I get to places. I just walk and walk and I'm not even there.

I stare at space and watch dust particles with a blank face.

Raw instinct is all that is pushing me forwards, keeping my legs moving, keeping my eyes tracking.

I've stopped thinking.

I'm back to being numb again. I shove things into my head to try and occupy empty spaces. Read books and listen to music. Fill myself with words that take up space yet aren't my own.

I feel the same as I did that time she sat us down in the dark and tore herself apart for just a frosty look and an insincere apology.

I remember her sitting on the stairs crying. I remember him trying to comfort her without breaking down himself.

I remember the boy in the living room who lost all words that day. His mouth formed the shapes, his lips made the motions, but nothing came out. He wrote with unsteady hands and in black biro told the truth for the first time in what might have been, well the whole time I was with him.

I sat in a chair watching everyone visibly hurting themselves to try and get me to share with them.

And I felt nothing.