Weakest Side of Me

Gone

Uhm, my poem is called Gone...

And of course, it would start off like any other day speaking with him.

"Have anyone over today?"

I would let 27 words escape past my lips. Four that would burn my walls. And one word, that would break me to my knees...

"Heh, no. I've been too depressed... Too much anxiety No one wants to be near a girl who's always depressed. Not these days anyway."

He would act like it was normal to hear this from me. "Oh, right." He would pause. "but, uh. why are you depressed?" shit. Maybe I can get out of this hole I've just dug myself into. I had thought, anyway. what I didn't know, was that this man had learned how to break the walls I've spent so long building up. He captured me into his dark light, in which I felt I couldn't live without.

"I've always been depressed. I just got good at hiding it."

I would try to change the subject. He would be... persistent.

"Why though."

...

I would give a grimace as I spoke my next words.

"It's been one year and three months, and I'm still taking in the fact I was Jo's paycheck. That I was nothing to the woman I grew up with and called mother... nothing but a small pay check to her horrible meth addiction... It's just something I've grown to live with everyday."

Relaxing the grimace on my face, my lips would turn up into a soft smile. I would smile, knowing that something most girls had, I had lost from a terrible meth and alcohol addiction. Something I will never have and always want. Again, he would pretend that I said this often.

"Oh, right."

I chuckle. "But it's my life and something I'm used to."

He'd shrug, and look at the phone in his hands...

"I see no need for the fake smiles and the hiding."

With this sentence out, I've felt a spark of trust, and feel the truth. a truth like the beat of a heart, honest of the living or the dead... A pulse forever going until the very end.

"I don't want anyone to see a weaker side of me... it's something I've always been afraid of. I've always been the strong friend in my friend groups. everyone counted on me... still count on me."

The next words from his lips... would be the words that would pull me to my knees. The words that would make me drag my fingers to the cuts and scars of my past, present an future. All lined on my wrists, and my ribs. Me.

"And so you feel there is no one there for you. No one in friend group is strong enough to help you, so you just keep it in and let it bottle up. you're thinking one day, you'll forget about it and move on... At least, that's what you hope for. But somehow, the hurtful truth takes over. You're feeling helpless and in need of a shoulder to cry on. Someone that can help, someone who understands you.

You let the past catch up to the present And dwell on the things you could have done or not done at all perhaps. And you look for a friend, but no one is around. You helped them through, and to them, that's all that matters. To them, your life is perfect. You look around and no one is there to help; you decide to bottle up again. THis goes on for quite a while till the bottle is full - no more storage space... You explode. You become paranoid and everything and everyone becomes a threat... you feel there is no way out, so you eventually decide to end it.

And now everyone realizes you were just like them... broken, in need of help... they realize, but it's too late. You've already left."

There would be a silence.

And in that silence I would ponder.

These words would sting with a truth I've always hid myself from. They would make me pull both knees to my chest and wipe the tears from my eyes.

My voice is shaken as I would respond to him.

"Yes, this is me. yet, I do not believe anyone can help me. I'll end up over flowing my bottle, losing my mind, and drowning in the voices creaming for me to end it. Fuck yeah, of course I'm scared of that day, but... I have to face it. These scars on my body, my ribs, my wrists, and the tool that created them. I'm scared... Scared no one will remember me when I'm gone. No one will care that I've left them, because as you've said... I helped them through, and to them, that's all that matters!"

I would trail my fingers over the white and pink ribbons carved into my skin by the hidden blade, thinking of my end. I speak once more.

"There are still people Who need me. Who will still count on me, lean on me. People who I can still save from the end we would similarly have otherwise. but, if I didn't help people when I know how to... what monster would I be?"

His hand on my back, would turn into an embrace, his scarred arms pulling me closer to him. he would be my lended shoulder to cry on. The one who would understand me. He would be here to help me while he can, always there.

As he would hold me, he would say four words, leaving me to dwell the rest of the night... And the four words he would whisper to me :

"The meaning of life."

~ gone

Thanks to those who read this. It means a lot. This writing was inspired by the love of my life, a real conversation I had with him. I want people to know, that no matter how bad life gets, things can and will get better for you, you just have to be willing to trust someone. And trust can come in two forms that someone will prefer. Good good friendships. And those you will fall in love with. But sometimes the easiest way is through a stranger. It's not the case for most. But it is simple. Someone around your age who is a stranger. Well, I'm not a professional, but I will definitely speak with anyone having a rough time. Family issues down to near suicide. Just find me over Skype : mosstail19 or over kik : sandheart52

You will no longer be alone. You will remember good. You will know love. I love you, and thank you <3