II. Swollen past
~~~~~~~~~~~~
You didn't drive there by yourself –
you found no single good reason to go to the hospital
you weren't sick,
weren't injured,
weren't having one of your infamous 'episodes', as so many liked to call it
–but your best friend heavily insisted
for the damage you caused to yourself was apparently too extensive
and she was scared that you might get an infection and die.
You told her death was an arousing thought,
only half joking,
expecting her to laugh...
She looked at your right arm,
at you,
then at your arm again
and began to cry.
(you know she cried at your expense;
you never quite understood people's minds
why they cried or laughed at the most diminutive, unimportant thing
you never understood why your friend touches you with gentle hands,
why she kept cooking for you,
cleaning up your mess,
bathed you even if you were twenty-four.)
You had money
you lived on your own now
you had multiple fans who praised you constantly
You were a fully capable adult.
But she was still stuck in the past--
(when she found you naked in an alleyway
with bills of cash fisted in your hands
when you crawled towards her with knees scraped and eyes throbbing,
an ugly little creature with a similarly ugly smile,
and asked if she was looking for a good time.)
But that was a long time ago!
And although you were still ugly,
(with crooked teeth and straw-like hair and skin covered in scars)
You didn't needed any more of her help
Even after she had fed you and took you in and cared for you
(as if your skin didn't crawl with bugs and worms and static and your fresh a rotten cave to protect your tiny, disgusting heart)
Still, she always criticized everything you did
judged your every thought, your every decision.
You never called her out for it because she always said she loved you
and she only wanted what was best for you—
And you loved her too,
you loved her plenty,
but she couldn't trust you and that hurt more than knives slicing skin.
