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I want to run away from this place...
From time itself... I had a dream... I was happy. My hands were so strong around your throat, choking you. Killing you. The pain on your face was visible, almost as if you had swallowed a lighter with a stomach full of propane. And I smiled. Still. Knowing and seeing your pain. And my eyes were filled to the brim with tears, spilling over and falling onto your matching cheeks... but I still smiled. Your life was fading right before my eyes, and I wanted to stop. I was supposed to be the one to save you, but there I was, taking your life. Pressing the pulse away from your windpipe. I remember thinking about how soft your skin was. And I remember the purple bruises I left.
This does not get better...
You did not fight. You cried and wanted it to last, the pain not your life.
You're eyes begged me to make it worse... As if the pain would never let you forget me. Asking me to let the nightmare continue on and let you enjoy this hell, because it's what you deserved. You knew that...
This does not get better...
You died in my hands then. Right as you wished for more, you were no longer a person, just a corpse. So cold. Still smooth and purple. Still wet from both our tears. I started laughing. Hysterically. My hands let go of you and I screamed in terror.
This does not get better...
You are me. I killed myself. Instead of saving myself.
Please... make this stop.

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