Journal Entry #0

The blinds are closed; the air is dense with regret. Like the kind that rests on nightstands. A cloud of shame fills my lungs as I breathe. I failed, I regret not following through with it again. I hate that I'm still alive. Every molecule of air stings like swallowing a cigar. The more my abdomen expands, the pressure only becomes greater. More to hold us down into sleep paralysis.

My eyes are open but I can barely see.
I can't see the week old laundry stack on the floor.
I can't see every pound I put on.
I can't see the way her face drops Everytime I hurt her.
  I can't see at all.

I can't hear them reaching out.
I cannot hear their compliments.
I can't hear how much they care.
I can't hear their gasps when my shoulder shows.
I can't hear their apologies when I explain the blood stains.
I can't hear their affection.
  At least not anymore

I can't feel... Anything.
I can't feel her lips on mine.
I can't feel her arms around me when she can't fall asleep.
I can't feel her fingertips as I cry uncontrollably.
I can't feel her teeth on my neck.
I can't feel her nails along my back.
  I never could in the first place.
I can't feel the scratches anymore.
I can't feel the blood running down my arm.
I can't feel the scabs stick to my sleeves.
I can't feel the scraps each time I fall.
I can't feel the life draining from my body.
•••
I am Jack's Happiness.
  I can no longer breathe.
I am Jack's peace of mind.
  I CANNOT ESCAPE.
•••
My field of sight finally comes to the surface. I woke up to see him smiling, standing there in front of me. Eye to eye with my worst nightmare. I'm so terrified it's like I'm not even here. Constrained by the stress.

I am Jack's Fear, his favorite game to play.

That disgusting smirk, the hungry gaze. He sets to prove something. That of which I am unaware. His empty pupils scan me, looking for imperfections.

I am his presentation.

I will become his work of art with no defense of my own. I am nothing but a lifeless ball of clay ready to be sculpted and used.

I am Jack's Panic Attack, the reminder he's alive.

His Paracord, nylon hands wrap around my throat. I only feel the tension on my trichia. I only hear the knot tighten.

I am Jack's final moments, here to stay.

My eyes are fading out, a smile on my face, the mirror starts to fog as I fight for air. Regret sets back in. It's too late to turn back. This is my fate now, still better than before.

I am Jack's tombstone, here in his memory.