Maria and I

Maria 29

Dear Maria,
I can't believe it.
"You've changed from the last 5 years." She said, her eyes glazing at me.
She was right. I went through a change from the first chapter when I was 18 then 19, and now I'm 20. I know I feel different. I know I am.
So she did... Take over. I didn't even realise it. I felt it. But it was so swift like a sharpened knife into a watermelon fruit.
So quick. Too easily.
I don't know how to react now that I've been brought to realise it. I thought it was always just a part of me. I wasn't struggling between my personalities anymore. I thought it was actually a mistake. That i never had 2 sides in me. I was being childish at 18.
No.
I see now.
It's just that one ate the other. The other one really died. I can't take her back. The nice side.
Yet.
There was one fragment so tiny, so insignificant deep down inside that mass of black. The abyss of my mind. Holding on, unnoticed, that she left behind. It was the guilt and memory of the thing that she murdered. Her biggest sin is the only thing that could shake even this personality and wake me up. Because it was too painful to forget or forgive.
Oh. That's right.
I have prove that she was killed. That this side killed my other. The cuts on the left had increased and deepened. Like a ladder flaring up my arms, under the sleeve, onto my shoulder, my neck and down to my chest, also my thigh. Fresh ones over fading ones until they stayed, like a haunting reminder everytime I glanced down.The cutting had been an addiction. Everytime I hurt, I cut. It didn't matter if it hurt me on the scale of 1 to 10. I cut, because I had to. I bled.
Heaps.
A lot.
And I felt like I could breathe everytime it flowed. I didn't bother crying anymore. It was pointless. My eyes just hurt. Head just pound and I felt even more helpless than ever.
I've changed because now I throw stuff, I show anger and I don't flinch. I just can't breathe when I'm mad. And all that goes through my head is Die Die Die. The other day, my brother and I had the biggest fight ever. Since he couldn't walk, I kicked him and mocked him, while he scathed my legs with all the energy he could. Mom came charging at me with a belt because I called him 'crazy' and 'bipolar'. Though the whole time I knew I was the one. And she started hitting me with the belt. I didn't flinch because it didn't hurt anymore. The anger was so much I was numb. And I did what I have always wanted to do. I grabbed the belt and looked her dead in her eyes and said: "don't you dare."
I wasn't going to be a pushover. I wasn't going to let her do this to me. After all I had been through that she will never understand! She hit me harder then. Slapping and punching.
I finally broke. And for the first time in three months being home, I cried. The tears ran down and I took the belt on impulse like I always do when I hurt. I wrapped it around my neck and yanked. I yanked as hard as I could Maria. I swear I did. I pulled the hardest I could.
No luck.
She just loosened it later and said she loved me.
But I knew her better than that.
She was like everyone else. No one really cares. It's all talk. All words. Spur of the moment.
All lies.
I swore then I wouldn't hurt my brother. But I've changed. I snap without a second thought. I haven't been nice at all. I was only always angry, pissed and occasionally seen very sad. I was paper thin and everyone can read me now. Like my mask button had been completely removed and now I didn't hide.
My true colours disgusted everyone.
And even myself.
I've been unproductive, rude, moody, grumpy, helpless and just dead.
Yeah.
Dead.
I'm not even living anymore. I hate this.
So much.
Help.
Help.
Help.

The imprisoned princess