Smother

You won't like me. I am not the nice girl. I am not your friend. I don't care about you, but most of all, I don't care about me. Go ahead, hate me. We all have secrets. I have them as well—dark, terrible secrets. The only time I can breathe is when I forget. I need to be numb. You don't want to know how. But as long as I can breathe, the past cannot smother me.