But why break something that is holding you together?
My whole childhood was spent surrounded by people, I hated all of them, and I still do. Even my parents. They don't care about us, they never have. Not even when she was dying, and she was the only one whoever held a tiny piece of my heart. All they care about is the fancy clothes that they wore and the parties that they threw.
I could give a shit less.
So I find myself walking through alleys, a bottle in one hand and a cigarette in the other, spending most of my days in a haze, stumbling in at 3 am. They used to pretend, they'd ask me where I was, if I was safe, if I was alright.
The words slurred and barely comprehensible. Wake up with my makeup smeared and then do it all again the next day. Some days when I'd really miss her I'd trade myself for something more hardcore, liquor just doesn't do it anymore. And this is the only way I can free myself from the pain, to pretend that I can't feel.