All I am, all I will ever be, is a girl who is haunted by everything she has ever experienced.

I revel in the memories of the ones I have loved, though they are strangers to me now.

Those who filled my earliest memories, my formative years, and I feel nothing towards the people they have become.

Or maybe it's how I've become. 

My morals, my values, my twisting and corrosive mind, perhaps that's what has led me to this apathy and disdain for everything in my life.

When did everything turn gray? When did it turn into survival? Were we ever a family?

I spend every day by myself, and I wonder why I'm doing all of this. It was never off the table, and every time something goes wrong, deeper within me I hopes it happens.

I just think of what my mother said to me so long ago.

"It will never be enough. Nothing will ever be enough for you."

Every day, those words cross my mind.

And she's right. I've come to realize, or maybe decide, that she is right.

I'll leave everyone eventually in pursuit of my self-destructive goals.

Goals, goals, distractions.

But it's never off the table.

Surely the end of my path is a demise caused by my own two hands.

And the world will keep spinning long after I'm gone.