P.S. Because I Loved You.

P.S. Because I Loved You [9].

August 29:

Dear Ethan,

I've never felt so stung as hard as today. Usually I'm the quiet girl who shuts her thoughts and conceals them away from the tongue. But today, I don't know what overcame me.

It was during Spanish class when I decided that the teacher's powerpoint was the death of boredom. I hitch-hiked down to the bathroom in hope of staying there until the bell rung. When I pushed the door open, I was relieved no one else was in there. I went toward the mirror and stared at my face. I had developed these hollow, dark bags under my eyes. I looked drained, tired, dead. How could Tristan deal with staring at this...thing? I was untangling my hair when I heard a groan. I jumped and walked toward the sound. It was coming from the last stall and the door was not shut. I peeked in but I only saw a dark figure.

"I know you're there." Said the female voice.

I stepped back. "I'm sorry. I thought I heard something."

She opened the door and I tried not to gape. I saw a razor in her hand and a pool of blood in the floor. Her wrists were dark red and swollen.

"That was probably me, sorry." She looked at me. Her eyes were big and were hidden under heavy eyeliner.

"Why are you doing this to yourself?" I asked her in spite of my sudden stare.

"Why do you care?" She demanded.

"Because I've been there." I simply said. "Don't do this. You're hurting yourself." I spoke in a soft hum.

"Um...that's kind of the point."

"Why?"

"Pain feels good." She snickered.

"No it doesn't. If you have a choice between pain and happiness, you shoudn't pick pain." I said.

"Who said I have a choice?" She glared.

"You are your own enemy. You make the choices that determine your fate," I stepped in and snatched the razor away from her hand, "this does not help you. It only makes things worse."

"Give that back!" She yelled. I stepped back with the razor in my hand. Even though the handle was plastic, it felt so heavy. Like a gun waiting for me to pull the trigger.

"Please don't do this to yourself." I begged her.

"Shut up. You don't know anything. Give it back NOW. You don't want to mess with me." Her voice gnarled.

"I have every right to take this from you. But because you are threatening me, I will give it back. In one condition, you need to tell me something."

"What?" She hissed.

"Why are you doing this?"

She looked down at her hands and sighed, "Because I'm not good enough."

"Good enough for what?"

"Anything. I'm fat, short, ugly, stupid, and a psycho. I have no friends, no family. I just make everything a mess." She sobbed into her palms.

My heart started pounding like it was drowing in the bottom of the ocean. I could feel my throat squeeze in and my chest feel like it had a huge hole in it.

I wiped the corner of my eyes and directly looked into hers. "Don't make yourself believe that you are not worth it, because you ARE. With so much negative thoughts, of course your life will be depressing and you will have a hard time seeing the bright side of things. You're probably thinking who am I to tell you this, but let me say this: I've been in your shoes. I kind of still am right now. I hate myself and I always think about hurting myself. Then I stop and think about life and the gift of it. I think about how much potential I have, how much success I can achieve. If you are constantly thinking about your weight, height, appearance or what people see you as, then you are abusing your gift of life. Don't think like that. No one knows your past, no one can read your mind. You know yourself better than anybody out there. So what you need to do is lift your head up and change the way you see YOURSELF. You are worth it." After I said this, I felt like the balloon inside of me popped.

I dropped the razor on the floor and walked out. I didn't digest her reaction or emotion. I didn't know what I said, or where those words came from. I felt like I said this to myself rather than for her. After the door shut, I slumped to the floor. My head began pounding and tears started to leak. How was I supposed to feel? Relieved for helping someone out? Happy for letting someone know that they're not alone? But why do I feel so..broken? I felt like my heart is shattering into a million pieces everytime I breathe. I felt like my organs are giving up on this exhausted body. I felt so tired and sore. My head hurts, my heart aches. Why do I feel this way? I pull in my knees and rest my head on them.

I  was startled by the feel of someone's hand on my shoulder. I quickly got to my feet and turned around. It was the same girl. She smiled warmly at me. The curving of her lips was like a small petal drifting with the wind - light and carefree.

"I-I....I was just l-looking for....s-s-somethin-" I mumbled.

"Shhh." She said. She then handed me her razor. "I want you to keep it. I'll know it's in the hands of a strong person."

She walked ahead of me and stoped mid-way and whispered softly, "Thank you."

Even though she was yards in front of me, I could hear the whisper loud and clear.

I wiped my tears, angry for allowing them to pour out of me, and walked the other way to class. Before I entered the classroom, I tossed the razor into the garbage can.

Because it was trash, a pointless tool that is somewhat tempting to use. It derserves to be thrown away for ripping the flesh of a person and permitting blood flow out of the body.

It's a stupid little thing meant to make someone feel horrible. It has no worth.

Rosalie