Pulling me back.

I can't love you as much as I do. I blocked that part of me away to avoid falling farther into that world, that obsession, compulsion, addiction. I ran and hid from that version of me, far from the cracks and dents and bruises left in my chest. I morphed into this young woman that I am now so I would not be HER, that foolish girl who fell for you, wrapped herself in your essence and fed off it, then starved when you harshly shoved her out. I came back to life because I hated the pain of being so far gone.

But now I'm smiling and aching and I don't even know how we got here. I'm confused as to what is happening, about whether it should or shouldn't. I don't know if I should cry or choke or kiss or laugh. I don't know if I want this or if I'm tumbling back into insanity. I think I'm standing on the border with wires in my skin and other selves pulling from each direction.

What shine is in my eyes?
Has she crossed the divide, maneuvered through my great design?
She is Hell in my veins and you're pulling me into the river.

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This has been a journal of venting.