38

I still think of him. I still think about the car crash that triggered our meeting. I still think of when he called me ugly, when I attempted to kill him.

I don't know why I still see his shadows crawling through my large apartment in Toronto, constantly changing size as I do various things at once. It makes me sad. He gives me a summertime sadness even when he's dead.

One day I know I'll forget about his perfectly-structured features and his somewhat heavenly body. I'll remember why I killed him and how I did it. I should be living in harmony and not horror.

Currently, I do feel good in this spacious apartment. I'm excited about buying new furniture, building a room I've always wanted and not in any way to his likings. I'm excited to start a new life and find a new man who should like me for my personality and not just my fucking looks.

I know I'm beautiful. I know I'll always be beautiful. I know everyone is attracted to me. I know I attract.

A lot of people know that about me.

But what a lot of people don't know about me is how my mind works. I don't even know how this system of psychotic yet ambitious thoughts filters my brain & body. I just try to keep up with it as much as I can.

And sometimes... all I wanna do is slice my wrists and jump off a fucking building.