Reaction

If two plus two is four, and four plus four is eight, where does that leave eight? Single digits, doubled, fascination. Forgotten, not deprived, spoiled, not forgotten. Left alone, that's what they want... no. They seek attention and forgotten praise. Everything is simply mind over matter. Think, see, acknowledge, register, react. Think, see, react... react, react, react. Over-consumption, careless, free... really? Who wasn't... who is, who never thought they could be. Reach in, grab what you need, rip everything else to pieces, and laugh. Anger, anger, anger, react. Too much reaction leads to pain, though not to self absorbers, no; to everything beyond and before. Shaking, thinking, see. See what has been witnessed. Swallow the guilt, swallow the sickness that's rising up your throat; you're a big girl now. Poke it, mock its ridiculous demise, and beg the saints for your own. Everything seems brighter on the other side... yet it's blinding on the side of start... so what could possibly fuel the attraction? You wouldn't know.
Flash, simmer, think, think, think, see. See what has become of the world, of life, death, and your personality disorder. See, react. See, fear. See, believe, and your dead. Can't believe, no, no, no. Believing are for those with hope, with trust, with more in life for them than a mission. Mission; destroy. Mission; gain, lose, gain, win. Losing has become the hobby of the innocent being within a soul. Nothing could compare, nothing could revive the stricken desire to gain, and to continue the pursuit of affection and lust. Warmth, comfort... No! Childish seems as simplicity, but can no longer escape. changing, changing, changing, react.
Fingers cramping, though not from exhaust, simply itching to lose control, to burn a fire through their hearts, to leave an indexed trace along her face, then laugh hidiously to the sky. You cannot imagine what could possibly dwell inside that body, inside that shell of human skin. I dare you... I just fucking dare you.
Dissociative Identity Disorder.
Attention Deficit Disorder.
Bipolar Personality Disorder.
Flash, flash, flash like the memories, goodbye. Flash like the longing of fading faces, goodbye. Flash like the moments captured that were too real, too honest to be captured by film, only in the mind... goodbye. Flashes fill my thoughts, like flashbacks before death. Fleeting and seething, dying yet breathing. Surrounded by moments of truth, moments of weakness, and moments of what  could have, should have, but never will be. I will be alright.
That's alright. That's okay. Tomorrow wont matter as much as yesterdays, and tomorrow is what counts the most. Today could die, yesterday was just along for the ride... but tomorrows... oh, tomorrows. The tomorrows are the days that judge everything, judge what you feel, and judge how others react... but really... how another reacts is up to you. You do, in fact, create this around you. Have you not figured such out yet? You've created everything... the earth, planets, whatever you may need to keep you (in your mind) sane. When you gaze upon a flower, why is it purple? Is it the actual colour? What are actual colours? You've made them up, darling. You've made up everything around you... and the people who choose to be around you, don't have a choice. They're just pawns, pawns in your little world for you to toy with and watch suffer and wither endlessly until you get bored and whip them away. Out of sight, out of mind, and literally; out of this world. Narcissistic bitch.
Antisocial Behavioral Disorder. In other words. I'm a mother-fucking Sociopath.
React, react, react. Think, fuck, lose everything inside, but gain more than you could imagine. Freedom, careless abilities... pain could no longer be an issue, the, emotion of hurt or struggle seems distant, as though it had never dared to imprint before. Past? What past? I've never heard such nonsense. It's all now, and now, and now, and now, and of course... now. Don't forget tomorrows. Judgment days will seize what you need and slit your throat wide open to gaze at all of the suppressed sickness, so swallow it all down. Deeper, deeper, now you're free to react. It's all about skill, and heartlessness. Lose everything and gain the world, in the mother-fucking palm of your hand.
Just react.