Ignite Me

The small hand of a clock taps me at one and two, three and four, whispering hello, get up, stand up, it's time to
wake up
wake up
"Wake up," he whispers.

He's looking at the wall and at the floor and at the bedsheets and at the way his knuckles look when he clenches his fist but no not at me he won't look at me and his next words are so, so soft.
"Because they're dead, love. They're all dead.

I clench my fists and try not to scream and I tuck my friends in my heart and
revenge
I think
has never looked so sweet.

I can do anything I want.
Be with anyone I want.
And it'll be my choice.

For so many years I lived in constant terror of myself. Doubt had married my fear and moved into my mind, where it built castles and ruled kingdoms and reigned over me, bowing my will to its whispers until I was little more than an acquiescing peon, too terrified to disobey, too terrified to disagree. I had been shackled, a prisoner in my own mind.
But finally, finally, I have learned to break free.

Switch spots with me, J. He's making me feel all goosebumpy and shit, like maybe he's about to knife me.