You do not know me.
Because you never asked.
You never even tried to see the face behind the mask.
All this time I have been quiet.
Suffocating myself.
And the screams are building in my chest, I long to let them out.
I cannot disrupt the peace.
So silent I remain.
And found I only had one way to let out all the pain.
I didn't know what I was doing.
At first I didn't lie.
But I grabbed a knife and cut my skin until I wouldn't cry.
I forced my skin to weep the tears my eyes refused to shed.
I cut and cut and cut again.
I wished that I was dead.
I'm sorry that I've done this.
I don't know what's made me this way.
The lies, the pain, my mental state? Or something someone said.
I could not tell you how I got here.
I can't pretend it wasn't me.
The scars that ring my skin are proof I was never happy.
But who are you to stand and judge when you were never there?
I did what I had to do; I didn't think you'd care.
I'm better off all by myself.
I wish you'd set me free.
I wished there was the slightest chance you could make me happy.
YOU ARE READING
Not me. (2023)
Short Storyso, I've been struggling for a long time now, and I never told anyone about it. I've never opened up. but I met someone who understands how I feel, and I'm beginning to feel again. I don't know how to do it, but I finally feel I can fight. I've been...
