Oh man, I really can't stand it anymore. Something feels wrong. I have that sharp taste on my tongue. The feeling I had minutes before everything fell apart. The feeling my heart gets when it knows, even when I don't, that soon it would be racing at the speed of light--breaking and trying to run, but always still attached to its merciless owner, me. It's the feeling I always act upon that made him call me paranoid. My instincts suddenly get sharp and every single thing drives me crazy. So, by now, it's only natural that I know what's going to happen.

I've cut open a huge hole in my head and every time something hurts, I shove it all in there. It's accumulating. I don't even have to look there to know. One day, who knows when, I will snap. And I wonder what I will take down with me this time. I suppose if you wanted to look, you could try. If you looked deep down and dug hard into that hole, pushed away all the gooey stuff, you would find it. Beyond the sharp words, the never shed tears, and bottles of anger, you'll find it. The first thing that I threw into the hole, the first broken piece that I never wanted to see again. But then again, if you knew what it was, then you would know all my secrets. So I guess I won't tell you.

I guess I do strange things. No, I am strange. I wish that I could go back into time. I wouldn't go back to change things and press rewind. I would go back to bring back the old me and have her stand in front of who I am now. I never thought I would end up like this. I would very much like to have the old me slap myself, hurt myself and yell at who I am now. Maybe then, I will start feeling some regret.

Remembering it makes me recoil. Not in a why did I do that feeling. But it's almost embarrassing to think about. But then once I get caught in the current of my emotions, I feel like it's alright again. That’s how it all started--I gave in to it and it's never let me go. So now, I just sit here and wait. I wait for the familiar sounds I hear every day. I wait for them to start. I sit perfectly still, you could never tell, and just wait. Not a single muscle on my face shows a hint of the feelings inside. But I'm not raging inside. I'm perfectly calm, waiting for myself to explode. And once I do, that’s the easy job. I'll just take out that mental broom and sweep everything into that whole again. The hard part is waiting for the explosion. As I wait for my little volcano, I sweep and grab everything that I will need. What do I need? I pause for just one second, and I lose it all, What I am doing? The familiar panic rises up in me and I forget for a second. Exhilaration just leaves behind despair and confusion.

I sit down hard and look at the overflowing bag at my feet. Inside of me, I grab my lungs and force them to keep on pumping. My heart is being my copycat. It wants to run away from me, just as I am trying to run away from life. The foolishness of me in the past five minutes makes me blush, even though no one else is in the room. Suddenly I see. Only for a second, but I close my eyes to indulge. With a sigh, I feel myself let go. As I finally persuade my heart to stay, I persuade myself to stay. It stops, but I don't move an inch. I grab it all and shove it back in the closet, everything, my clothes, the money, my broken heart, and the rampage that will never come. I close my door and lie back on the bed as I give up again on running away from home.