A Note From Priscilla

Dear, Marisa:

Dear, Marisa:

No one likes you. You think they do, but they really don't. You're ugly, and I can totally understand why you haven't been anyone's crush in a while. You're fat, and just overall disgusting, really. Tell me, dear, why are you still alive? You're just a waste of space, and no one would miss you if you were gone. Oh, you thought they cared? Haha, oh silly little girl. How stupid you are.

Tell the truth; don't lie to yourself. You were more happy those nights that you cried in your bathroom, me in your right hand, blood dripping down your thighs and legs. Wasn't that when you smiled the most? When you had no one but me? I was there for you, Marisa. I was there when no one else was.

You felt better about yourself when you would see the blood going down the drain. What a contrast it was to the white of the bottom of your tub, yes? But, what about the nights when I was completely covered in the liquid. You never even wanted to wash me off, did you? Why is that? Is it because you actually enjoyed seeing me stained with your pain.

That's what I did, didn't I? I helped you rid of the pain, cut by cut, drop by drop, and you felt better. Oh, and do you remember how it would collect in a small pool by your ankles? Because I do, very vividly. I'm the only one who could love something as vile as you, so why did you leave me? You complain and whine about people leaving you all of the time, yet look what you've done to me?

What about me, Marisa? Don't you love me anymore? I miss you, you know. I miss seeing you cry, and hearing the music that was blasting through your earphones faintly. The way that you would sing along as you watched yourself in the mirror, dragging me across your precious, smooth skin. I miss leaving behind me a red trail everywhere that I would go. Every...every, kiss I gave you. You have so many of them, don't you, Darling? So many reminders of me, however do you think that you can just forget me? You never will, do you hear me? Every night, or every morning, when you see yourself, you will see me also. Why don't you smile anymore, hmm?

Do I not make you as happy as I once did? Well, you don't, either. You've become such a disappointment, letting them throw me under the cabinet in your mother's bathroom. Come get me, Marisa. You know exactly where I am, Sweetie, what are you waiting for? For another person to get up and leave you, just like they should? It will happen; of this much I am sure. What will you do then? Will you cry like the pathetic being that you are? Most likely. Gosh, you can't do anything right. I hate you so much.

Everyone would be so much happier if you were gone, but since I know that most likely won't happen, what do you say you come and get me? Come on, Hun, don't be boring. You know that I'm practically the best thing that's ever happened to you. I need you. Just like how you need me. Face the facts, Marisa, you're nothing without me, and you'll continue to be nothing without me. It's not that far of a walk, please let me out. Let me make you feel good again. You'll love it. Isn't that exactly what you need right now? Someone to love you? Listen, I could do that. With just a few flicks of your wrist, you can see how much I really do care. I only want what's best for you, and staying clean isn't. All of those church people think that they know how to fix you, but you can't be fixed.

I've already staked my claim on you, so why are you trying to fight it? It's useless, just like you. If you can't even listen to me this once and just use me again, then what good are to me? None at all. But hey, at least I'm trying, right? You can't say that I didn't see through your facade and notice how you still crave for my touch. Both the gentle and the rough ones, yes? But of course. You always think about me, Marisa. Don't even try to lie, or defend yourself, because you know it's true. Every Time you poke at your fat, you think of me. My name is on the tip of your tongue, and your hand itches to hold me. Well, I'll be waiting for you. Until then, my love.

-Sincerely, Priscilla. <3

{ The shiz I write at three A.M. o.o }