The Dark Passenger.

I want to move on but I can’t. I have tried countless of times, but couldn’t.

I just know there’s something dark in me and I hide it. I certainly don’t talk about it, but it’s there always, this Dark Passenger. And when he’s driving, I feel alive, half sick with the thrill of complete wrongness. I don’t fight him, I don’t want to. He’s all I’ve got. Nothing else could love me, not even.. especially not me. Or is that just a lie the Dark Passenger tells me? Because lately there are these moments when I feel connected to something else.. someone. It’s like the mask is slipping and things, people.. who never mattered before are suddenly starting to matter. It scares the hell out of me. 

I realise that for five years, I’ve been imprisoned by him. I was obsessed with him. And the worst part is that he didn’t even force me to. I liked it, on my own will. I liked the fact that he was possessive, that he made me his. I didn’t feel like I needed other people in my life, as long as I had him. And whenever we got into a fight, I had no one around to talk to. I couldn’t.

It’s been over two years that I left. I don’t talk to him as much, obviously we don’t see each other anymore. And during my first year here, I struggled to move on and make new friends. I wanted to go back home so badly. Home is where the heart is, always. However, the very few individuals that have formed part of my life since elementary school have helped me get back on my feet. New friendships were born; I talked a lot more to others; I genuinely laughed and felt like I was my only master. The thing is, it scares the crap out of me. I forgot how to really interact with people around me. I always second guess myself, and never really have the guts to say what I'm thinking. I guess that could be a good thing too, knowing how strange I might sound did I utter a single thought to these people. 

And despite all this, I miss him. More than ever. He is no good for me. But as I said: And when he’s driving, I feel alive, half sick with the thrill of complete wrongness. I don’t fight him, I don’t want to. He’s all I’ve got.