I've experience too much, bled out too many tears. It's time I rest in a place I have no fears.
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MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING: Suicide, Death, Abuse
Please read with caution, this isn't something to read when in an unsta...
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Hey, it's me again. I wanted to tell you that right now I need you more than ever. It's getting harder, even though I thought it would be easier. Tears start pouring out like blood, thick and foul tasting. It makes me sick. I don't think I can do this alone anymore, it used to be so easy for me. I used to be able to numb the pain through the melody.
The tears would stop once you began to sing.
I'd tell myself that I wasn't weak, that I wasn't unloveable like they told me I was. I'm realising now, that I'm just that. It's hard confessing it, that I'm only an entity of dread, that I'm only meant to feel it.Because, even though I feel I don't belong anywhere, the crying almost feels
Comforting.
It's become a routine, I should tell you, I've developed one for efficiency and such. I bleed out the emotion for an hour or two and then I patch myself up. I try to mend myself with beauty, because it masks the scent of blood to others. I use flowers and colour, because you're a fragile girl and I know those make you smile. I like how you look when you smile, even if the stitches bring down the corners. I miss the crinkle in your eyes, and the way your dimples looked genuine, I confess. However, if I unwind the stitching, you'll fall apart. I suppose some is better than none. You've become a lot better in your acting, and I know no one will tell you that. I noticed how much you've been practicing that smile. I can't wait until the day you used it.
We've been working hard down here, mending you when you bleed, and I hope you know.
Please, play the song once more. I want to listen to it, even if you no longer sing along.
They've long silenced you, songbird. Fear not, I'll remember the melody for you, okay? They took your wings away, but I'll make sure that when you close your eyes, you'll fly. They ripped the petals off your flowers, but the stem is still that vibrant green colour.
And I'm afraid, my dear, that I've stitched your mouth shut. I apologise, but the blood was leaving you too quickly, I had to save you. Your dimples have faded, and your flowers have died, but I can't bleed any longer.
I'm tired, please.
I feel warm and comforted, the water is hot enough to envelop me. Thank you. I used to bleed through my eyes, but it's much more painful through the wrists. I never realised how much I've stitched until it all unwinds before me. You're bleeding quite a lot, and you hate the smell just as much as I. It's just like you, to think of others at a time like this. But, not to worry, I left them an eloquent note to read. Though, I doubt they'll read it.
I'm growing more tired as the water turns dark. And like a velvet blanket, I fall.
You fought with all you had. I couldn't do it, and I'm sorry. But I'm tired, so let us sleep into the new morrow.
