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

Those who filled my earliest memories, my formative years, though they're all strangers to me now. I feel nothing towards the people they've become. 

Or maybe it's how I've become. 

My morals, my values, my corrosive thoughts, maybe 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 mom 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 probably, ineviably and eventually, leave everyone 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.