Feeling insecure about every step that I take towards a future.
Where do I belong?
Do I even belong somewhere?
Why am I here and not there?
Is this where I have to be?
What am I going to do?
Can I be a use of anything?
How do I live my life?
Am I already living my ideal life?
When am I going to die?
*Or am I already dead?

Making mental pain physical. Creating weapons to hurt yourself. Hiding them everywhere in your room and when everything is boiling and you relapse, your deadly friend is there for you. Thoughts are running through your head. The urge to do it knowing you'll feel guilty about it later. Feeling in control over the situation. You know this pain and you bear it. But the one inside your head is just too much. As you drag the cold steel through your soft peach skin you try to focus on one thing.
Pain.
You have to resist the urge and believe.
Believe that you are better than a cold steel blade and a warm relief.

The hurricane destroyed what ever that came in the way for its long journey. It left this town in ruins. The houses, trees and people were all gone. Everything was silent. But it didn't destroy it because everything is still here. Our memories are still here, the memory of you is still here.

I'm walking in a field with green grass and pretty white flowers. The air is fresh and a cold breeze comes carrying the sound of birds singing. The sun is shining in the middle of the cloudless sky, so I squint my eyes. Wandering around in my own thoughts I find myself lost. I walk trough a shrubbery, with thorns and branches sticking out everywhere. As I walk my way trough I tumble down on my knees. I stand up with bruised knees and hands, realizing that I'm on the other side of the shrubbery, where the grass is gone. Only soil and molehills. The sun is hidden behind gray clouds and black shadows are circling around. A shadow comes dashing towards me. It lands right in front of my feet. It looks up at me with it's glistening red eyes. There's something so familiar, so tempting about it as it says the words:
*welcome back home.