what it is

I don't know whats going on.
When will you even care about it.

Maybe the one who's talking its just the memory of the lonely emo pal.
But even then, there's constitution of oneself, I cant delete her, or at least I haven't been successful.
Its all the same, the little china girl, and the bloody one, all of them crying a single yell to the sky, all of them looking up, looking forwards.
Forsaken, abandoned, its different now, those feelings echo in ways they didn't before, I get better at handling them, I'm no longer abused by myself.

Yet, it feels like I do let myself be abused, it feels I'm a giver, when you're a taker.
Greedy.

I'm obsessive? I'm overly attached.
I do guess the belonging its not so over yet, belonging its such a difficult terrible word. I utterly dislike, yet I'm supposed to live by it.

Don't know if yours is a place to belong, because there's no arms waiting for me.