Obsessive compulsive

Again, from experience. Happy, happy times.

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/You love her,/
It taunts.
/You care./

It’s a horrible thing
To use against someone.

/Seventeen times, and you’ll be pretty./
/Come on./
/Seventeen times./

I hate you.

/Tap once, tap twice./
/They’re all following you./

It terrifies me all the time.
At night.
And that’s just the best of it.

I hate the whispers.

/Kill her. Now./
/Hurt her./
/It would be so easy./
/She’s so fragile./

It uses every last thing you hang on to.

/He’s alone. He’ll die alone./
/She’s lost. She’ll be lost forever./

The threats.
The screams. Like nails on a blackboard.

/Stay fucking still or she’ll die./
/Count, you fucking cunt./

Leave me alone!

/I can’t leave you./
/I can’t leave myself./

We’re not the same.
Just shut it.

Just fucking shut it.

Sometimes it does, after that. Sometimes there’s just silence.
But sometimes it gets worse.

/You dare call me that again and they’ll all die./
/All of them./

It never goes away.
It’s never really silent.
Never really gone.
You can’t get rid of a part of yourself without destroying the entirety of you.