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I grew up with a messy room and an even messier mindset.
I used to tell myself that I would be surprised to make it out of high school alive, or to even have to courage to get out of bed on a dreadful Monday morning.
My thoughts were always screaming at me, and all that I could ever do was mutter a simple, 'I'm okay", no matter how stained the bathtub got that night.
When I see a scale, I feel the need to puke, and when I walk into a store and see food, I have to fight myself to not count the calories and to not pinch the taunting fat all over myself.
                          
And I figure that it was somewhere in the middle of these feelings was what I had felt with you. Although your words, when they had effort, were laced with silk, you never meant them. At least, not for the remainder.
                          
But, as they say, all things come to an end.

                          
—and that means the good and the bad