It's as if I'm no longer afraid to get hit by a car.

It’s the faint lights headed for me as I stroll across the highway. I don’t care to die, but I also don’t care to maintain this life. It’s the act of wandering around aimlessly at night knowing all the public dangers surrounding me and just not caring to go back inside. It’s the daring effects of driving too fast down the highway and not slowing down for amber lights. It’s the sound of screeching tires and landing in the middle of an intersection on a red light and just shaking it off like I meant it to end that way. It’s the imagined scenarios of getting beaten up till I crawl away, or getting tortured until somebody walks in and saves the day. It’s the hope of getting torn apart by a werewolf only to become one, or to get bit vocals deep by a vampire so I can suck another’s blood dry. It’s allowing the man I used to write poetry about to use me for his sexual desires and than drive on home as if it’s all I wanted from him. It’s getting ignored by the people I need right now and introverting to a dangerous place. It’s escaping this nightmare of a reality with romantic movies and pretending like one day it’ll happen as if promised to me. It’s staring at bottles of liquor and wanting to drink them every night but stopping at the thought that I don’t have the money to replace them once their gone. It’s as if I look forward to saying it’s been two months to the day, because maybe if I convince myself enough time has gone by than it’ll be okay. It’s as if I’ve convinced myself that something has died on this earth, something very dear to me and all I can do is stay inside my bedroom walls and dream of a better place. It’s as if… something has been taken away; a part of my soul.