countless [bottles] litter my bedroom floor and every time i step over them i am reminded of how you used to step over me after you had finished making me into a masterpiece. i remember how my skin used to look like something painted by monet; using only the finest brush strokes to make me into a priceless beauty. only it was painted by you, because you could only see me as beautiful when you used my blood to paint a picture you called love.

but you never loved me, did you? you never thought twice about me and i think that's why im holding packets of pills in one hand and a [bottle] of vodka in the other. all ive ever wanted is the pain to stop and . . . and

AND GOD FUCKING DAMN DID I THINK THAT BEING WITH YOU WAS THE PERFECT PAINKILLER FOR ME. I LOVED YOU, I LOVED YOU SO MUCH THAT I DIDN'T MIND IT WHEN YOU BROKE MY BONES OR THAT ALL MY CLOTHES WERE STAINED WITH RED. I DIDN'T CARE WHEN I GAVE UP ON EVERYONE I LOVED AND CARED ABOUT JUST BECAUSE YOU SAID TO. I WANTED TO BE PERFECT. AND THE SAD THING IS THAT IT'S ONLY NOW I'M REALISING YOU WEREN'T MY PAINKILLER. YOU WERE JUST MY KILLER. AND YOU KNOW WHAT?

I HOPE, GOD DAMN DO I HOPE, THAT AS YOU READ OVER THESE SHORT PARAGRAPHS OF HATRED, YOU ARE STANDING OVER MY GRAVE AND STARING AT A HEADSTONE THAT READS YOUR NAME. I HOPE YOU TASTE ME IN THE FIRE OF THE VODKA YOU CRAVE AND FEEL ME IN THE BURNING OF YOUR LIVER AS YOU REALISE THERE IS NO GOING BACK. I HOPE YOU SEE ME IN THE SHARDS OF A SHATTERED [BOTTLE]; IN THE FRAGMENTS OF YOUR BROKEN REFLECTION.

I HOPE YOU NEVER FORGET ABOUT ME BECAUSE I WILL NEVER BE ABLE TO FORGET ABOUT YOU.