I almost want to help you save me, because I know how desperately you are trying. But don't you know, I can't be saved from myself?

I am the hurricane, the chaos, the darkness that sippers through the closed curtains. I am the tragedy, the ruthlessness, the warning signs that you try to ignore.

There is nothing more home than a layer of goosebumps; than the deep breath after a panic attack or than turning ice cold when you've had enough.

Nothing more comforting than the numbness I create with a smile and an 'ok' as a complete sentence. The 'ok" I know they don't understand, the 'ok' they will never hear more than once.

Then I roll my head back in a circle, exposing my neck in the purest form of vulnerability. It's my favourite moment, as I watch their eyes, petrified of the strength it takes to be exposed.

You see, no one wants to play with the devil.