Isn't it terrible?

Isn't it terrible how the people that are supposed to be close to you ruin your life as they ruin themselves?

Isn't it terrible that I'm already self-destructive enough without your help?

To think your contributions are leaving scars.

Isn't it terrible that I'm leaving what I've known for these last years?

To think I have to be part of the real world now?

Isn't it terrible that I'll likely never see half of these people again?

To think I'll be out on my own soon.

Isn't it terrible to think that things might be better if you were killed by the poisons you've submerged yourself in?

To think that it would be easier without you.

Isn't it terrible that you make me hate you, and in turn, hate myself?

To think that you taunt the murderer in me.

Isn't it terrible that I can't deal with the shame and sickly habits you've acquired?

To think I believe we need to cut off the hand to save the body.

Isn't it terrible that I have no other interpretation than flaying myself?

To think I'm supposed to graduate tomorrow.

Isn't it terrible that my robes might not cover the incisions you forced on me?

To think that once again, on one of the most important days of my life, you've gone and ruined it.

Again.

Again.

Again.