subsume

So listen,

It's been three years and I still find myself taking all the blame. I imagine this fact would make you happy, providing you the comfort of knowing that I cared enough to be hurt by you. In the end that was what it boiled down to, hurting me to prove that I still had a heart at all.

I may be bitter, but it still scares me when I can't find you. I hold my happiness in a book and you transform in front of my face, you take over my dream and I follow you, hostage to my guilt, bound by your anger towards me.

When he held me too tightly as I struggled to staunch my mental break down, I knew exactly where I had felt this before.

I sit at the bottom of a fish bowl.