My masochism was clawing at my brain again.
I felt okay, though.
That only lasted for another fifteen minutes.
Then I got the news.
Another one, dying. Take it back, actually, both of them.
She wanted to make me cry.
She took joy from making me feel her pain.
Then she says "I'm sorry"
Almost trying to go back like it didn't happen and get upset at me for crying.
That's manipulation.
Nonetheless, I cry in the bathroom.
My eyes hurt so much that when I went to wipe the tears, I saw blood.
My eyes began bleeding, and the tissues wouldn't plug it.
I hated it, but as I looked in the mirror of my stained reflection.
This may very well be the last story I tell, because in that moment, I wanted everything to end.
My bones ached, my organs tensed. My hands shook.
So, here it might be.
Goodbye.