Crash.

Crash.
My name is Crash and I'm alone.
I didn't want to write alone, because it feels as if I'm exaggerating.
Like my mind just said alone, and I felt the burn. That burn I get when something really hurts me. Like when my mom talked about separating from my dad. Or when I remembered how much I loved Jonathan. See? I almost got it again, when I wrote his name. I feel stupid, whining about the things I'm putting myself through. But I know it's my choice, but something bad happens, and it's almost as if I make myself dwell over it, just to feel pain. Maybe I feel as if I don't have enough pain to be considered a human being, but I do. Maybe I see myself doing beyond the freedom I've always wanted as a child. Like getting in a train, watching the stars, taking a night walk or run. My name is Crash, because  I'm crashing my life, "but it's okay because it's a challenge, and I love challenges," I tell myself. I cannot have myself crying. No one will ever see me cry. Because my name is Crash, and physically, I don't crash.