I will think with my head.

I will feel with my heart.

No more telling myself what to feel.

No more letting my emotions control me.

I will be smarter.

I will work harder.

I will be stronger.

I will be better.

I used to be obsessed with the idea of

“Better.”

If I was better than myself,

I was doing well.

If I was better than my goals,

I was going to be okay.

But mostly…

If I was better than other people,

I would be satisfied.

So I worked to be the best.

I studied.

I watched.

I listened.

I became exactly what I wanted.

I was better.

Until I was infinitely worse.

Before “better,”

I would say “I win.”

If I finished a difficult homework assignment?

I won.

If I got through a boring class?

I won.

If I survived until tomorrow?

I won.

I celebrated every victory,

However small.

I fought to win against life,

I fought to endure whatever it threw at me.

And I did.

I won every single day.

Until I only ever lost.

I’m not sure when I realized I wasn’t better,

Wasn’t winning.

I’m not sure when that confidant person

Slipped away.

No, “slipped away”

Isn’t a good way to put it.

I killed her.

I gave her too many losses,

Too many oppositions.

When everything is a game or a competition,

It’s only natural to be put down.

So perhaps she killed herself.

Or maybe she handed me the blade.

However it happend,

That girl is dead.

If I’m the one who killed her,

I’m not sorry.

She didn’t deserve to see the world.

She didn’t deserve to witness it’s horrors.

She didn’t deserve what she’d be put through.

I saved her.

Yet I’m still angry at her.

How dare she leave me her empathy,

Her caring,

Her hope?

How dare she force those on me,

But let me be harmful,

Hateful

And cynical?

She might have handed me a knife,

But it wasn’t just her who was dying.