Depressing Shit

July 28, 2016

Why don't you see?

I see you. I notice you. I see every quirkie little thing you do.

Everything you see as a flaw, I see as an adorable you thing.

And I see.

I see when you raise your hand in class, but your fingers grasp your sleeve to keep it from slipping down your arm.

I see you slip a razor into your sleeve before you go to the bathroom.

I see the satisfied look of shame on your face when you come back.

I notice the wince when people grab your wrist or lean against your thigh.

I see the random scars.

The scratches you pass off as doings of your cat.

I see the tears left over after your cries in the bathroom.

I see the shattered look in your eyes when people ask if you're okay and believe you when you say you are.

But I also see you.

I see the way your eyes crinkle adorably when you smile.

I see the way you pay close attention in class because learning is your passion.

I see the way you grab a friend's hand when you're uncertain.

I see the way you wear baggy clothes to hide the beauty underneath.

I see your smile. Not the fake one you present to the world to show how you're okay. No. I see the real smile. The one you flash in front of friends. The one you flash when you see someone paying close attention to you.

I see all of your little perfections you call flaws.

I see everything.

But you don't see.

You don't see the way I stare at you from across the room because I want to memorize everything about you.

You don't see the way I hold your hand extra tight when I see you really need it.

You don't see the way my nose scrunches with the force of my smile when you're around.

You don't see the way I reach for your hand when its laying across the table.

You don't see the way my heart breaks when you pull out that blade.

You don't see the way I cry when I see you spent the whole lunch period crying, alone.

You don't see the way I love you.

But that's okay;

As long as you're happy, you don't have to love me.

But you just don't see.