when do I get my reward?

put your hand inside my mouth, fingers narrowed and slender. make a tapered cone and reach down into my throat. ball your hand into a fist. block my larynx, my esophagus. don't make a sound. don't wake me up. I want to die in my sleep. I want you to know that you're the one that did it. I want your participation to be active.

when my heart stops, I want you to feel it.

your life is nothing but mine could have helped so many. you are worth nothing to anyone but me. without me, you are empty. but I have become useless to you. you forgot to look where you were going, and stumbled, and I'm the one that got pushed into traffic. you just have survivor's guilt.
I wish I had survivor's guilt. at least it would mean I had survived. at least it would mean none of this was happening to me.
you don't remember feelings. what about when you asked if I wanted a burrito, and I said "I love you" and hid under the blankets? do you remember how you felt then? for days I murmured nothing into your chest to hide the words I wanted to be saying. for conflicted days I worried how you'd react.
you told me to stop hiding.
you said you loved me too.
I cried.

This was real to me; this was all real to me. what was it to you? a way to pass the time? something new to try? was I anything more than a distraction? you were my love. what was I to you? an inconvenience?
it hurts too much for you to read this? well, you're not living it, you selfish prick. you're not the one who just keeps getting broken over and over and over again. and everyone expects me to keep going because to consider the alternative would be too painful.

I am constantly waiting for the next bad thing to happen. you were supposed to be one of the good things.
you were supposed to stay.

I want you to read this. I want you to know what you did. and I want you to pay for it.

I know I can't move on until I let this go but goddamn it... I just want you to hurt.