Just Walk Away
Before The Wound
I looked him in the eyes. “5 minutes” I mouthed and he shook his head pointing the other way. We argued like this for what seemed like forever and finally I had enough. “Fine” I murmured walking away, and the next period he caught me with tears in my eyes. Sitting in class I bit myself, hard, till the point where I bled; in the middle of health class I showed him for the first time how much he hurt me.
After school I talked to him again. We spoke in hushed tones as he drew, and for the first time ever. I looked him in the eyes and being 100 percent honest, I said “I love you.” We continued talking about how he was confused and I told him I was unsure if I even had a chance. I cannot believe I have liked him for five months.
He killed me a little more every day. And I didn’t know how much longer I could take it and that was before he did what I never thought anyone who said they loved you could do. We were texting that night and I told him I was confused. He said there was nothing to be confused about between us; I said I was confused about the fact that I should try to get over him or wait for a chance. Then he basically told me I would never have a chance. I lost it. I had saved his life on more than one fine occasion. I had convinced him to stop cutting, to try to eat and hold it down, that his best friend’s suicide was not his fault that being bi was cool. I told him everything. And for a while, he told me everything too.
My suicide in the making was the fact that I still loved him, and he was everything to me. This would not end well.
After school I talked to him again. We spoke in hushed tones as he drew, and for the first time ever. I looked him in the eyes and being 100 percent honest, I said “I love you.” We continued talking about how he was confused and I told him I was unsure if I even had a chance. I cannot believe I have liked him for five months.
He killed me a little more every day. And I didn’t know how much longer I could take it and that was before he did what I never thought anyone who said they loved you could do. We were texting that night and I told him I was confused. He said there was nothing to be confused about between us; I said I was confused about the fact that I should try to get over him or wait for a chance. Then he basically told me I would never have a chance. I lost it. I had saved his life on more than one fine occasion. I had convinced him to stop cutting, to try to eat and hold it down, that his best friend’s suicide was not his fault that being bi was cool. I told him everything. And for a while, he told me everything too.
My suicide in the making was the fact that I still loved him, and he was everything to me. This would not end well.