Unheard of.

If I Could Speak, I'd Say...

     

                                                                                       

        I could no longer stand for I had fallen deeply in love with you. You made me feel like no other. I loved the scars. I was facisnated by the burns. The cuts that ran from my inner thigh to my knee had made me feel loved. It seemed crazy to want more but I did. I wanted more of it. More of you. I was more emotionally severed than physically. But you see, they couldn't tell. If it was up to them, they would say I was a happy soul. A gallant girl. But I wasn't suprised because I knew their eyes had fooled them. They just couldn't see. Why were they so blind?

            It all started when the knife hit my skin.I fell in love. The blood rushing down my arm brought so much comfort to my soul. And it happened, not once..but twice...a third time... and then before I knew it, it kept happening. It became something that I couldn't  live without doing. And I only did it because, he loved to see me do it. Over and over it happened. The more it happened, the more he loved me. And that was the more I loved myself.         

        She told me to stop but I didn't. I just kept on doing it. She didn't understand. They all didn't. How could they understand me. They couldn't. Nobody knows what it's like to stand in this ill-favored body of mine and live day after day watching the one you love..love another. How could any of them understand what it's like to be unloved and untouched. All the nights that I spend laying in my bed crying with no one to wipe my tears. How could they say they even understand? Understanding is an understatement for their lips to even speak and minds to even think.Yes,no one knows my sufferings but my knife. He and I grew to be very close friends, sharing secrets that no soul could bear to hear or imagine.I would talk and he would listen. When I spoke, he always gave me a solution.  He understood, more than any of them every could.

        How could they sit there questioning why I did what I did? I'm gone now. It's no need for a needy ear or a helpful heart. You weren't concerned about me when I was here, why start? All those tears you cry, don't compare to how many I've shed. Besides, your tears aren't meaningful anyways. You are just crying because you feel sorry for yourself. Well, I don't feel the least bit sorry for you or him or anyone. Especially not for him. He is the reason all of this happened. He knew before the knife knew. He just didn't care. I wish they could see themselves. I wish he could see himself. I loved him. I loved him more than I cared to love myself. How could he not see that? How could he not care? Why didn't he love me back?What was so hard about loving me? I questioned myself. 

It just occured to me, that this would be the last time that they would see my face. Even the last time that he would see my face.I wish I could smile but I can't fake it. I'll leave them with regrets. I'll leave them with worries of "why" and "how could I". I'll leave them with no intention of ever returning(because I really won't be). When they see me, it'll only be in their memories. And their memories will haunt them like a ghostly shadow in the darkest of hours. And when they are alone and they are left in their beds to dream, i will become their worst nightmare.