On the floor, watching the flies with their disreputable dances, obsene thoughts of what it would be like for you if I was gone. The thought of you choking, convinced it was your fault, almost seems serene to me. Born a base-born fuck-up, held against for every tone of voice I spat in front of me. And still you ask me why I'm so stubborn. I've never been displine's bitch, making me contridict everything you say, to keep up the reputation you, without a doubt, imprinted onto me. No consilation prize for trying my hardest. and still I'm wondering why I never left when I had the chance. When what was left by him fed my curiousity, and what you gave me to ease the pain kept me in bed for days. I knew leaving my addictions was the price I'de have to pay for leaving you. I knew it was your fault. I couldnt do it. and now? wondering. wondering why Im still determined to prove something. it doesnt even have to be about you. or for you, it never was. there's no need for me to explain myself to you. everytime I tried, it proved to be malific. I gave you a nervous breakdown that night. You came home drunk, and told me to go fuck myself, I wasnt worth your time. Your discrimination brought me back to this point. and I screamed, "You created me!" And still your lectures roll off your tongue and through your teeth, almost like you've got nothing better to say. I quitely walked up to my room. Bumped up and split it open again. Like I wanted everyone to see just how far down you've broke me. like weakness was something to be proud of. I proved you right.