Shadows are best to be seen.

I’ve started to notice how much I hate myself.
I’ve started to notice how little I eat.
I’ve started to notice how much I miss the good moments from my childhood.
The moments when I would play at the park; fall and scrape my knee, having my grandmother kiss it, and all my pain would go away.
I’ve started to notice how much everyone cares; how little they do(more or less.)
Though I must preface, I have a ghastly imagination, full of dragons, poetry, and murder.
Specifically the murder of those who speak down on me.
I’m an insecure narcissist.