Emancipation.

I look back on times that I wanted to sit in the corner of my room, surrounded by shining pieces of glass, teasing myself with the sharp edges, under a light, screaming nothing into the fading darkness around the haze; The times I wanted to tear apart the skin of my thighs and arms and bleed hoping everything would flow out and clot into little scabs, that I can just peel away one day.

Today, we are older than the last time. Today, we can look at the scars that have been left behind by our past. Gallant as ever, through every rain, the reason why I always carry my jacket; you, your umbrella. As the sun rose and dipped into the horizon like a cookie in milk everyday, everything took on a new shape. Like the pieces of a book that could no longer hold on, softened by the constant beating of apathy, we grew apart. But yet today, I feel that we came closer. The older I grew, I climbed up the ladder. The older you grew, you climbed down towards me.

Now, you're in the way. You have been many times before and I have just sat in the illusions of my light, silently pushing the virus to another part of my body, delaying the wounds, the blood and the scab. Today, I know I will never see the scabs because I will never bleed. The needle was poked around into my vein, the nurse tipped the syringe here and there. She twisted it around from side to side like she was trying to wear an earring after years of nothing. Still, no blood.

In the dominion of my life, there are many craters, empty, rotting, green with fungus. Like a vial of life had been drawn out every now and then. I think back to some years that just went by in silent agony. Of years that I will never get back. Today, you say you don't love me or respect me any more. Today, you say your life isn't here but down in the emptiness of the darkness that led you to me. I watch earnestly into the speck of light as my lost soul disappears into the bundles of baggage you took with you.