Girl

She lives inside of me and she slips out in wavering moments-after a long day, a failed test, a broken heart.

Though sometimes quieter than others, her voice is always there. It whispers hateful nothings in my ears. Telling me I'm ugly, and stupid, and unloved.

She wants freedom. She wants to be let lose as I made the mistake of doing once before. The freedom she offers is tempting-when she is lose I have no ties with anyone, just me, just power. She claws at my insides. Sometimes I'm worried that if I lose control, she'll take over again-that I'll become someone I don't recognize.

She is wrath. Nothing more. She wants to be more, but she can't. She hates everyone, whether they do anything or not; she hates them simply because they exist. She knows it's wrong, she knows it won't make her feel better, but she can't help it. All she sees is red. She wants to make every living creature suffer as much a she does. She wants to watch them squirm in agony.

This girl is dangerous. Not just to the people who dare cross her path, but sometimes to herself. She worries that one day she's going to lose it. The way she muses about slicing her delicate wrists after a devastating day, the way she wishes she could throw up that piece of cake she shouldn't've eaten, the masochistic moments where the logic of right and wrong is the only thing holding her feet firmly to the floor.

She attempts to mask her pain as anger. She's just so hurt she doesn't know how to fix herself. She feels like Pandora's box, wanting to be released; but she's afraid-she isn't so sure there's any hope at the bottom.

I know that I can control her. I know from experience that even when she gets out, even when I hit rock bottom, I can fix it again. But it's scary to think that a part of yourself is that dark. It makes you feel like such a freak. =/