There’s this feeling that I can’t escape, like I’m ruined in some way. I remember lying there, flat on my back, not completely coherent of the situation but knowing that every thing about you was going to tear me apart. I remember lying there crying, I’m not sure if I really was or not, but I remember feeling like it. That one moment, when I knew it was going to happen, I looked at your face and there was nothing. There was no feeling, none of the words you had said only an hour prior meant anything. You were emotionless, I know that’s the truth now. I know that I am dirty now, filthy. I want to scrub myself until I bleed, until I’ve gotten some part of you off of me, at least the slightest bits. You might say you’re not judging me but I know you wonder if I kissed the same, if I loved the same, if the feeling behind it all was the same. It’s not, that girl that night was me…but it wasn’t, it was just another form of self mutilation I’ve let myself endure. My scars are infinite, my past was a treacherous path in a painful territory that I had tread with a smile and a bottle.