Letters To Midnight

16.

Dear Midnight,
Today I carved a scar on myself in your honour. My teacher saw it in class and asked what happened. I told her our cat scratched me, even though we have no cats. She looked at me in a concerned way and asked how was life at home and was I doing fine? I pasted on this sickly sweet smile and told her everything is a-okay even though everything is far from okay.

I understand why you do it now. Pretending to be okay, I mean. You don't want any fuss or anyone judging you or anyone treating you like a fragile butterfly who's going to break after one little shove. It's better to smile and pretend, isn't it? Even though it's getting harder to exist every day, and I say exist because what I'm doing is not living. Every beat of my heart hurts. It hurts to breathe and it hurts to go through the motions of life and it hurts even more looking at your bedroom door knowing you're never coming out and I can't help picture you when I found you, the life bleeding out of you while you lay sprawled on the floor.

It hurts, Midnight, it fucking hurts, missing you.

It's going to be New Year's soon. Everyone around me is all saying your name, saying how they're going to have their New Year's kiss at midnight, or how they'll be counting down to New Year's with their loved ones at midnight, or how they would be starting over at midnight.

Remember how we'd have our own New Year's tradition? You, mom, and dad would come knocking at my door, because my room was the best place to view the fireworks. Remember how we fought over my room at first? I wish I'd given it to you. I would give anything to get you back. I remember how we'd all gather by my window, watch the fireworks and wish as a whole family how we hoped the next year would be the best ever.

I still wish it, and now I'm the only one who does. I'm getting tired of wishing wishes that aren't coming true.