Boombox

Diary of Hurt, Hurting Quietly

Entry #5

I wish you weren't mean.

You passed me again today and held your head high as you sauntered through the hallways and your so-called friends mocked me behind your back. I wavered my gaze to my shoes because the disappointment I feel every single time is soul shattering and I keep lying to myself, keep telling myself that you do in fact care and all of this, this mean façade you're disguising yourself with is just that. A façade. Please stop being mean.

You liked to hold doors for me but now you slam them in my face. You used to lie for me to keep me out of trouble but now you lie about me to your friends. You loved to race between roads and hide behind bushes now you're cruel and intolerant.

Your words used to be sweet and comforting now they're a sharp tip of a blade.

I wish I could forget you altogether but your face holds all my memories. That's the worst thing about a person, instead of continuing to make memories with them, they become a memory themselves. A walking distant memory you see every day.

You're bittersweet and I hate you but I love you and if you looked at me without that blank stare or grimace stitched on your face, and your nose crinkled in that sweet way we used to tease each other with, I swear to earth and moons and skies above I would take you back in a split-second.

But you're still mean.

Don't you hate the new you? Because trust me, I do.

Don't you feel pangs of guilt or swim through dangerous sad thoughts? Because I do.

Don't you wish you played it differently and trusted yourself more than others? Because I do.

I wish you weren't mean.

I wish you kept your identity untouched by society. I wish you kept yourself by my side. I keep putting you on a pedestal and raise you higher fueled by my hope, and as far as I know, you'll soon come crashing down. When you do, my love, I will help you. But I promise you this, I'm not going to be as nice as I once was.