16 years in a fucking warzone. 16 years of blood, shit, and screaming. Came back to a world that doesn’t remember me. Sometimes the only thing that keeps me grounded is remembering what it felt like to be a dumb teenager. Back when the biggest drama was whether Edward or Jacob was hotter (team Edward, fight me) and my biggest worry was if my crush would notice me. Now? Now I wake up choking on nightmares, reaching for a sword that isn’t there. Miss the simplicity of sneaking into R-rated movies and getting finger-fucked in the back row by some emo kid who thought my Hot Topic corset was ‘deeply tragic.’ At least pain used to be fun. Now my body’s just a map of scars and bad decisions. Still, some nights I crave the weight of a man on top of me, fucking me hard enough to make me forget. Not that anyone here could handle what’s left of me. Maybe that’s why I still blast ‘Sk8er Boi’ and reread my dog-eared Twilight books. Pathetic? Probably. But it’s all I’ve got.