Reality

There are tears streaking down her pale face, and the black of her mascara runs with them. A hand is covering her mouth which is slightly ajar, and she cannot believe what is happening. It was the one thing she always thought she was safe from, and it was the only thing that would bring her downfall so easily and so quickly. Silently, she turned away and she began to push through the crowded room. Her stomach churned and she wanted out; she wanted to be rid of the pain that suddenly spiked in her chest and then, her whole body was on fire.

You didn’t love her.

You didn’t give her the chance. You didn’t do anything except lead her on and crush the hopes she had. She felt safe with you, and she felt whole with you. You knew all her secrets and you knew her habits; you were her best friend. You were her first love, her innocence, and the most trusted person in her life. You were important beyond belief, and you didn’t even realize how upset she was. You didn’t notice how the tears fell down her face because of you.

And every day after you left, she would look in the mirror and see nothing but disgust.

You stopped caring; there was someone else there for you who replaced her. But for her, she had nothing and no one. She felt alone and, even within the four walls of her bedroom, she would weep. She would contemplate suicide, and she would wish for you to feel what she felt. Her chest burned and it was a hole; there was nothing left for her and there was nothing left of her. She was too far gone and there was nobody to save her.

You couldn’t love her.

And so she stopped loving herself.