Forgive Me

Prologue

"I fucking hate myself for letting you get hooked on all the shit that you were on." ~ The Plot In You// Happiness in Self Destruction

  I walked into my room, and all that floods my mind are the memories of you and me. I glance at my window and I remember the countless times you would hoist yourself through it. It would be 3 a.m. and I would be trying to sleep, and you would awaken me by throwing pebbles at my house. I'd open my window to let you in. I can't think of one single time I let you in that you were sober. Sometimes you would be drunk, or you would be high. I'd try to shove you away, I'd tell you to get out of my house, out of my life. I couldn't stand looking at you that way. Your eyes would be red, your breath would reek of Captain Morgan, and you would stumble around. But every time you left, I'd start missing you again. I shouldn't have pushed you away so much. I should've let you stayed that night.
The moments you were sober were the best. I loved your clear, clean laugh. Your pearly white smile would light the room up. Despite your rude demeanor, you were the nicest person I have ever come across in my sheltered life. But, that's not to say you weren't horrible at times. I can still remember the last fight we had when you were sober. I remember the broken glass that surrounded the floor, the holes in the walls, the makeup that ran down my face, your muscles tightening, my hands shaking, your loud yelling, my hysterical crying. I'm sorry I told them. I loved you, and I couldn't stand you destroying yourself anymore.
I can't remember one single time you told me you loved me while you were sober. I can still remember the night you took my virginity and I looked up at you, telling you that I loved you. You got up, put your pants on, and told me to stop talking madness. You told me I didn't know what love was.
If only you knew that love was when I would look into your green eyes, and when I would press my hands on your chest, feeling your heart beat.
I remember that night clearly, you told me one more, that you would stop after this last one. You told me you knew what you were doing. Why did I listen to you?
You know that you've got a tendency to fuck things up, and that you think you know what you're doing, but you really don't.
I don't know who was more stupid here, you, or me? You for doing all this to yourself, or me for letting you?
I've been laying here in my bed, crying for the past, I think, three hours. My mother has tried to feed me a sandwich, but I slammed my door on her.
Ever since we met, I began slamming the door a lot.
I decide sleep is for the best. I put on your old favorite Ramones t-shirt, and I lay in my bed. I begin to sleep into a dark sleep, hoping for it to last forever.
Everything's black, and everything's silent, until I hear a tapping on the window.
"Baby girl, open the window."