Crazy In Love
Sometimes I do things, and I don't understand them. I suppose that's why I'm here. You can hear all the screams from other patients through the walls, they're really not that thick.
But I didn't write this to tell you about this eerie place. I wanted to say that I'm sorry for what I did to you- the choking, the torturing, literally tearing you apart. The voices told me to do all of it. But I can't lie to you, I did enjoy watching you struggle, kick, scream, desperately trying to escape death even though it caught you.
The voices in my head didn't like you, but I did, and I still do. I miss you, the way you use to twirl your hair all the time, and the way you'd laugh when I said or did something amusing. I'd wake up everyday with this burning desire to hurt you though. Some days the voices would tell me to smother you with a pillow while you laid beautifully sleeping, the voices would tell me to bash your head in when you were oblivious. But what I hated most was that the voices sounded like you.