still living
thoughts that slowly condense their dark, inky substance into a crying, clawing creation of my own design. an amalgamation of everything that i wish i could erase. they make a home, a parasitic comfort that continuously invites me in and tears me apart. we have to coexist, and i have to be the host. and i need to accept it, accept knowing it will always be my companion no matter how hard i try. never alone, always accompanied by that which i hate. i cut it open, i let it bleed onto these words in hopes its life drains away. its form dissipates, but lingers within who i am. still the same parasitic being, still the host doomed to hurt.