fixate

I think that I might like the dead girls the best. They make a lot more noise, flash some more lights, but end up fighting a lot less. There's something comforting about a mate that's farther in than you are.

It's been so long since I've had a mate that I'm not sure that I remember the motions exactly, but the dance will never leave my brain.

He/She will be one year old sometime this month. If only I knew all the things I don't know. If only I knew at the time what pain comes from ignorance and what tragedy comes from trust.

It's hard to see through thick foggy memories I'd rather not have.

But, I do. I always will. I'll never know if I was a biological father, and will have never have had a choice. I'll never be able to smile without some reservation, no matter what happens in this lifetime.

Time to set a shattered heart back on the shelf and try to forget it all. Try to forget my name, sometimes, but it just won't go away. It's like screams in the dark that echo in your head and the picture of the girl that you can't forget.

And the lies that will forever change the way you approach other people. The confidence you might have had if you didn't feel so dirty every day. I mourn every bit of it as I watch it drift away with the strong breeze.

She wasn't worth it.

There something so fascinating in the way I bleed. Something that burns in my eyes while I die.