Flames || Rhink

Menthol

The next few weeks drug on and on. It was announced that I would not be returning to Good Mythical Morning, but Rhett would continue the show just like usual. It was very hard to watch that episode, but I knew it was the right thing to do.

I had gotten a lot more comfortable with my new job as a cashier. I had even been promoted to a lead in the month that I had been there. Devin and I had talked a lot more and I had even started to smile.

I hadn't spoke to Rhett since I walked out of the studio that day. I ignored his phone calls and cut out the lights when he would knock on the door. After a while, it all stopped.  

I missed him, but I didn't let that get to me. I couldn't. 

Moving on was easier without him.

My body was still a magnet for the matches though. 

I used them less, but they still defined the day. I thought about them after work and while I showered. I thought about them constantly.

It had gotten to the point to where I did it just to do it. It didn't matter if I was happy or not, I craved it like a smoker craves menthol.

It was a part of me now.

I had stopped eating though, convincing myself I didn't need to. My stomach hurt like hell, but I pushed through. I got sick at the thought of food.

I stopped watching Good Mythical Morning. It was now a one man show...minus all the other people behind the cameras that is. 

I had almost repainted my thighs in scars. I let them recover long enough to feel them again and then went in for the kill.

I had officially made it through 4 boxes of matches in the past two months. 

Sickening, I thought.

I started to hate myself more and more. I stopped caring about my looks. I gave enough fucks to look decent for work, but that was all. My apartment looked just as bad as I did.

My world turned into a bedroom. A space so small, there was only room for me and my emotions.

When I got angry, I would scream into my pillow. Yelling at myself about how I fucked up and how I didn't deserve this life I was given. Once I punched the headboard of my bed. My knuckles were still bruised. 

When I get sad,  I lay on the cold floor and bury myself in tears. Sometimes I pass out there, and wake up the next morning in more pain than I thought my little body could handle.

I'm pathetic, I think to myself. 

It all hurts so damn much. I want it to end. I want the world to stop spinning, for me to get back on my feet, and be happy again. I want Rhett back. I want him to be with me, to love me, to save me from whatever monster has manifested inside me.

I just want to be who I once was. But he died. 

And it feels like I'm following suit.

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Thanks for reading you guys! You're incredible if you are still here wanting updates from little ole' me, when I haven't updated since December.

Thanks for sticking with this story. I hope you enjoy!

Sending hugs and good vibes!

Thanks for being your mythical best!

-Robin