after she'd caught me on my run home, Bonnie had convinced me to stop being so cryptic, she'd basically dragged me to her house
before she told me she'd leave me alone if i hung out with her that night.

putting on my favorite movie, she'd cuddled up to my side,
her fingers drawing small circles on my cigarette burns,
"sometimes, i wanna die, Bonnie."

she hadn't looked up
but i could tell she'd heard me,
"same."

but i couldn't keep it in for some reason,
she was my only friend -regardless of the feelings- and i had to get it off my chest.

"you don't get it, i-i wonder if this'll ever stop, ya know?
i'm sad all the time...
i'm sad and i hate it."

i was trying to explain my feelings to someone who didn't want to hear my problems,
it was obvious,
"Clyde-"

and sitting up, i tried to regulate my breathing,
"i see you as someone that makes me not-sad."

she was shaking her head,
john bender just becoming a blurry figure as i stared at the screen,
"and we can continue to have that without all the feelings involved.
feelings complicate shit, Clyde."

"he was my dad."

i heard her confusion as Bonnie tilted her head,
scrunching her nose in that way of hers i no longer found cute,
"what?"

and i released all my pent up aggression in the words i'd said, "he was my dad,
he was the last piece of my mom and he treated me like shit.
i don't want to let go of her so i held onto him."

her hand was rubbing awkward circles onto my back but i felt nothing, i wanted her to leave me, "Clyde, i'm sure there are other pieces of your mom you can hold onto.
y-you don't have to put yourself in the position of his punching bag-"

and jerking away from her touch, i stood, "you think i want that?
you think it's fucking easy but it's not. i can just let go of the one person who treated me like i mattered!"
i yelled an then i looked around, gesturing with a sad chuckle, tears starting to find their way of showing, "you don't get it. you have a stable home, you have people who care, you have a reason to stay alive... i don't and that fucking sucks!"

and it did suck.
and it was a lonely life to live.

my head was shaking, my hands were wiping forcefully and pathetically at my face, "but then you talked to me one day a-and you played me like a drum and i let you.
and i loved you.
and i felt significant, i felt important and to have you step on me like the dirt i've been trying to convince myself i'm better than, fucking hurts."

and all i could focus on was picking up my stuff,
grabbing my game controller,
not looking at her, "but i let you because i get attached to things too easily."

"and continuing to look at the one thing i want and i know i can't have,
it's killing me."

with that, i left.
and she didn't stop me.