Here I can see, I'm sitting in my dimly lit, complete darkness bedroom. Just sitting there, my eyes have dried and I don't need to blink, staring off into space. Nothing phases me, not the sounds, the sights, nor the pain. I can see the mess scattered across the floor as paint to a blank canvas. Shoes, Clothes, Papers, ruined in one corner. I, myself, can count all the fresh cuts and scars up and down my body. There's an urge to make the library larger. My way of breathing out the pains and thoughts I keep bottled up hidden with a deceivingly "I am happy" smile. Those thoughts, I bury deep down to keep from seeing the blurry stinging vision that I get beaten by words from, want to come back and play. It's easier to cry and scream and be incredibly violent in my room to myself, where no one can hear me or try to save me. All my demons sit with me. I name each one as the worst parts of me. some are hidden in plain sight or under my bed or my dresser. Staring with white eyes. Some are covering the walls, spreading the darkness to every corner of the room, in satisfyingly neat, straight lines; Almost forming computer grid lines. While others hide and seek out victims with anger and wrap them in darkness, never seen again. Each one has a different weapon to use on me, each destructive in its own way, by myself as the leading reason why it is not bothersome and I can push it aside. The faces I see are those of my family, friends, enemies, past relationships and those of myself. They all seem so full of joy, hope, and have a better future than me. Each picture on the of them has one burned spot as a replacement to where I was. I can hear all the criticisms of others, of myself, of my demonic friends. Those whispers, so harmless and with a single touch poison the first person to let them in. Sitting above me on a cloud of disgust. The walls of the room, dry, dirty, cracking every minute, give way to a sliver of bright light where the hope of peace can be seen. A peaceful haven of nothing, where I have no burdens of my past self, my life, or thoughts. But giving sight to the tipping point when I lose it. One mirror in the room to remind me that I will never be as good as everybody else. The image that I see is not pretty, she is fat, slow, disgusting, prude, rude, and she has bloodstained arms and legs. Numbers and letters to remind me that I am stupid, pathetic, nieve, and everybody else is better than me. I have one pet, a cat- my favorite animal- as a reminder of my silver lining in the black hole of my good friend. I self-criticize myself to make it feel like it's not worth it anymore. I can feel the stinging, blurry pain coming back. Is it worth it? That I mind as well give up and sleep away my demons. Sleep, sleep and more sleep just to deal with the demons and the weight of the best. Being the good girl with good grades and having all this effortless talent. Sleep, where I can dream of a better place and I have happiness once again. Let multiple songs rerun through my dreams and then like a wrinkle in the sands everything falls apart again. Back to the reality of the darkness that lurks with my friend. The same darkness is waiting quietly and patiently at my bedside, beckoning me, like a dog with guilty eyes, to let itself wrap around me once more; Gently as a soft blanket of comfort. I compete to stay alive again, over and over and over for nothing. I beat myself up to try and get out of my own head to sleep and dream and go into my safe place, but it's just an illusion. My room is wired to go off any minute, like a ticking time bomb, where I burst and everything comes out. Each struggle, each day, each and every minute gets harder and harder to get through. I'm walking the tightrope, a smile on my face as a way of saying "I don't care anymore", with no fear of falling, no fear of what may wait for me, no fear of the past catching up to me. I can feel a sense of clarity hold me; guide me. I can't make my friend leave, it's stubborn due to the reflection of what is me. It laughs in my face, beats me and scrambles up my already messed up mind. There's no point to exhaust me over who is going to be with me the rest of my life. No medication, therapy, outcries, or help will deter this friend of my mine. The life of mine feeds my already plump, disgusting companion. It's my comfort when no one else is there with me late at night. my shoulder to cry on, the toxicity of me, the pills I down, my knife against my skin, it's the comfort of loneliness when I stare off into the abyss. It is my lover, my family, it is a part of me that toys with me like a marionette. Pulling the strings in my life. It is my commander of what to say and what to do. But how do you rid of a friend who always has your back when you know no one else does. My Dear Friend, I want you to go away.