The scratches come from within. They always have.
That itch? Yeah, you know the feeling. That feeling that never fully goes away, no matter how much you try to drink it away, it stays, it lurks in the corners of your psyche.
You.
That fucked up complicated reality that's who you are, who I am. Who we're trying to be.
Shh, I say, constantly trying to quiet the voices shouting in silence, trying to explain who I am to my many fractured self. Trying to...I don't know sometimes...
I want to know me. At least I think I do. At least I think I do.
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