I don’t eat or sleep.
I breathe my hatred for The Therapist. It courses through my veins instead of blood.
I wasted too much time trying to be nice. Thinking it was a misunderstanding, thinking oh he cared about me and didn’t mean to hurt me. He just messed up.
Killing a client’s spirit isn’t messing up. It’s an act of emotional violence and abuse.
So yeah I don’t cry anymore and I don’t eat and I don’t sleep.
I’m the girl he killed and my ghost only needs my hatred of him to stay alive.