To relationships, to bad romance, to everything that went wrong.

Who was I every time I undressed myself in front of someone? What was I looking for?

Who was I when I put my clothes back on and left their bed? Was the attention? The physical touch? Who was I every time I looked at myself in the mirror with mascara on my cheeks? Who am I when I meet someone new? What about Him? Did he know I go so attached because he was just as fucked up as I am? I was a number on his body count sheet and I made him so powerful, so unique, so special. Is this pathetic? It can't be as I have a body count sheet too. Attracted to his damaged soul and I got high on the light coming through his cracks, I am obsessed with cracks and I’m obsessed with light. So what?

I got used to eating bread crumbs from the floor and I am now preaching about sitting at a fancy table with someone and eating a full meal, Anna…Smashing plates and sitting on the floor is all I know, how am I going to explain this to someone new? I could start with "you know, the voices.." Ok, maybe not.

Good luck baby Anna.

Cracks and light,

Anna