'Funny' Story...
Stay Sweet, Stay Strong.
The darkness was suffocating me. Your words were drowning out every other thought. How could I have been so stupid?
I felt what had happened before I knew. The clock ticked faster; the minutes mocking me. The pain sent shocks through my body, and my silent cries echoed over my empty walls. The pain was ripping me apart from the inside out and I couldn't live that way. The razor I held in my hand weighed down my heart; dropping it to my feet. Maybe if I cut my skin open, the pain would leave me alone? Forget about me and move on? The day of Love left me hoping for death.
I reread every letter addressed to your princess, with your name signed at the bottom. Your name is going up in smoke, and I can't seem to put out the fire.
Another all-nighter, with your name piercing my heart.
The next night I pretended Valentines day hadn't happened. There was no real damage, just paranoia and self-loathing. My mother came in, with tears in her eyes. She asked me for a simple request.
"Let's take a walk," She said, with a shaky voice I didn't recognize.
The strongest woman I've ever known took me into the night. The stars were our only lights. Though it was dark, I could still see the pain emanating off of her. A million things raced through my mind, but the words that spilled from her lips was the last thing on my mind.
Her words hit me like the bullet that ended your life. Everything stopped and I couldn't breath. The one who always knew what to say, felt the words fly away. My tears swelled at my eyes; blurring the constellations into undefinable blotches.
You were gone.
We talked for hours about you while sitting under the stars. I couldn't help but wonder if you could see me, or if you even cared.
You couldn't give up the drugs, so I gave you up. That was one of the hardest decisions I have ever made, and there isn't a day that goes by that I don't regret making it.
On the day of Love, you were shot in the heart, while mine was simply falling apart.
The days that followed took their toll. The girl that never slept, could not awaken. I built up a world of magic, because my real life was tragic. Why be awake when my dreams shield me from the pain? Days past by before I would open my eyes. I busied myself with things to do, so that maybe I wouldn't think of you.
I went to school the next day. I pretended I was okay. If I cry all through the night, but nobody was there to see, did it ever really happen? God knows I'll never tell.
My mother told the school my father was murdered. My teachers tip-toed around me for the rest of the year. 'A ticking time-bomb', I heard one teacher whisper to another. My friends didn't know. They all asked why I acted different. Why I became so quiet.
The funny thing is, I've always been this way. I have always worn jackets in summer. My mother never did know why I always wore pants in 120 degree weather. Why my friends never saw me at lunch. I ate in the bathroom; too broken to go in the sun. I was good at hiding these things. I was so smart about laughing when I was falling apart. 'Sleeping' in class when I was having a panic attack. But this was different. I didn't care anymore. I had given up.
I stopped talking. I hated the sound of my voice because I had refused to answer my phone whenever you called.
I stopped texting. I hated myself for never hitting send that last night.
I stopped eating. I hated myself for yelling at you when you tried to help me cook.
I poured my heart on the pages of a dirty, old notebook because you were gone, and couldn't hear my heart scream.
I danced to forget you. To find myself. To lose myself.
That first day back at school I was the first one in the classroom, and I sat there silently as the class filed in. Everything went in slow motion. These people had no idea what had happened, and non of them cared in the slightest. The noise was too loud; I heard everything, yet nothing all at once. I couldn't breath; but I didn't know if I wanted to. My vision was swimming and I couldn't stand on my own two feet. The first time I had ever blacked out.
No one noticed. Or maybe they just didn't care? My throat was was swelling shut with the words that I was too broken to hear aloud.
I couldn't sleep the night before your funeral. I curled my hair, and found a strapless black dress. My green eyes so full of sorrow, they were painted brown. I was silent the entire day. I watched my mother as she bought me a new book; she was so calm talking to the cashier. Not a single hint of pain, yet I knew her well enough to notice how she was quieter. She was much paler than normal, and her eyes sunk in. She was still, and barely moved contrary to her natural fidgety personality. She was breaking, and I could hear it in her too steady voice. She talked too much about you when normally she wouldn't even say your name.
It was closed casket. I haven't seen you in almost a year, and now I am still struggling with not only acceptance, but with all of the 'what ifs' that will never be answered.
Another fake smile, another empty day. It's like I drank a magic potion to strip my personality away. The way I've been living my life lately is a fatality, and yet somehow my reality.
I felt what had happened before I knew. The clock ticked faster; the minutes mocking me. The pain sent shocks through my body, and my silent cries echoed over my empty walls. The pain was ripping me apart from the inside out and I couldn't live that way. The razor I held in my hand weighed down my heart; dropping it to my feet. Maybe if I cut my skin open, the pain would leave me alone? Forget about me and move on? The day of Love left me hoping for death.
I reread every letter addressed to your princess, with your name signed at the bottom. Your name is going up in smoke, and I can't seem to put out the fire.
Another all-nighter, with your name piercing my heart.
The next night I pretended Valentines day hadn't happened. There was no real damage, just paranoia and self-loathing. My mother came in, with tears in her eyes. She asked me for a simple request.
"Let's take a walk," She said, with a shaky voice I didn't recognize.
The strongest woman I've ever known took me into the night. The stars were our only lights. Though it was dark, I could still see the pain emanating off of her. A million things raced through my mind, but the words that spilled from her lips was the last thing on my mind.
Her words hit me like the bullet that ended your life. Everything stopped and I couldn't breath. The one who always knew what to say, felt the words fly away. My tears swelled at my eyes; blurring the constellations into undefinable blotches.
You were gone.
We talked for hours about you while sitting under the stars. I couldn't help but wonder if you could see me, or if you even cared.
You couldn't give up the drugs, so I gave you up. That was one of the hardest decisions I have ever made, and there isn't a day that goes by that I don't regret making it.
On the day of Love, you were shot in the heart, while mine was simply falling apart.
The days that followed took their toll. The girl that never slept, could not awaken. I built up a world of magic, because my real life was tragic. Why be awake when my dreams shield me from the pain? Days past by before I would open my eyes. I busied myself with things to do, so that maybe I wouldn't think of you.
I went to school the next day. I pretended I was okay. If I cry all through the night, but nobody was there to see, did it ever really happen? God knows I'll never tell.
My mother told the school my father was murdered. My teachers tip-toed around me for the rest of the year. 'A ticking time-bomb', I heard one teacher whisper to another. My friends didn't know. They all asked why I acted different. Why I became so quiet.
The funny thing is, I've always been this way. I have always worn jackets in summer. My mother never did know why I always wore pants in 120 degree weather. Why my friends never saw me at lunch. I ate in the bathroom; too broken to go in the sun. I was good at hiding these things. I was so smart about laughing when I was falling apart. 'Sleeping' in class when I was having a panic attack. But this was different. I didn't care anymore. I had given up.
I stopped talking. I hated the sound of my voice because I had refused to answer my phone whenever you called.
I stopped texting. I hated myself for never hitting send that last night.
I stopped eating. I hated myself for yelling at you when you tried to help me cook.
I poured my heart on the pages of a dirty, old notebook because you were gone, and couldn't hear my heart scream.
I danced to forget you. To find myself. To lose myself.
That first day back at school I was the first one in the classroom, and I sat there silently as the class filed in. Everything went in slow motion. These people had no idea what had happened, and non of them cared in the slightest. The noise was too loud; I heard everything, yet nothing all at once. I couldn't breath; but I didn't know if I wanted to. My vision was swimming and I couldn't stand on my own two feet. The first time I had ever blacked out.
No one noticed. Or maybe they just didn't care? My throat was was swelling shut with the words that I was too broken to hear aloud.
I couldn't sleep the night before your funeral. I curled my hair, and found a strapless black dress. My green eyes so full of sorrow, they were painted brown. I was silent the entire day. I watched my mother as she bought me a new book; she was so calm talking to the cashier. Not a single hint of pain, yet I knew her well enough to notice how she was quieter. She was much paler than normal, and her eyes sunk in. She was still, and barely moved contrary to her natural fidgety personality. She was breaking, and I could hear it in her too steady voice. She talked too much about you when normally she wouldn't even say your name.
It was closed casket. I haven't seen you in almost a year, and now I am still struggling with not only acceptance, but with all of the 'what ifs' that will never be answered.
Another fake smile, another empty day. It's like I drank a magic potion to strip my personality away. The way I've been living my life lately is a fatality, and yet somehow my reality.