Depressing/Sad Story's

Love will not heal me

I stand in front of my school and look out at all the eyes staring back at me, "This is something I wrote a few weeks ago, and it's called 'Love will not heal me' and I wrote it for a boy, and I know that sounds cheesy" The crowd laughs a little along with me. "But its also about my fight through depression, So here we go," I say as I walk up to the podium and put the mic on the stand. I slip through the pages of the old book I've written everything in for the past 4 years. Once I land on the page I clear my throat and begin, "I had a therapist tell me once, 'It was ironic how much love I gave out, Cause I didn't give much to myself.' She laughed like- like self-love was some kind of sick joke I chuckled... and cried at home" I look up from the book as I continue and I see many sad eyes looking at me past the bright lights shining in my eyes. "I had someone else tell me once 'I could not love anyone else before I learned to love myself.' this time I got to laugh, this time the sick joke was mine. It was me." I looked back down at my book a kept reading the pages that were crumbled from the tears that fell from my eyes while I wrote. "I might as well wait forever. I remember hating myself at the age of 8"I bend down before I continue and grab 3 books that looked like the one I was reading from and set them next to the pages I was reading from. "Journals filled to the brim," I open the first one from when I was nine and I flipped through the pages that were filled with words that I had written, slowly as I spoke, "with criticisms by nine, I had enough pages to stitch them into wings to fly close enough to the sun to see my tears turn to steam felt the wax burn on my shoulders and mold into thick skin."I throw the Journal aside and picked up the next and continued, "I was ten when I first wanted to die," I flipped through the book and then throw it towards the other one. "Thirteen when I found a solution!" I grab the mic and take the long jacket that covered my scared thighs off and revels the long and deep slashes that lay across my legs and throw it to the side. "I figured if I could cut my legs enough..." I hear the small gasps and whispers when I walk out from behind the podium and show the crowd my long lean legs. "Gravity would let me go! When it didn't I tied a pillowcase," I went back and picked up the very pillowcase I used that night four years ago, "around my neck, twisting like the rope swings I knew so well as a child" I lay that down on the floor next to the podium. "I could hear my heartbeat pound in my ears like a warning drum then fade..." I feel the tears start to brim in my eyes but I continue. "I'd almost convinced myself I'd done it" I look around and I could see the first few rows with some people wiping their tears, "When I started writing" I picked up the last book and fliped page by page to show the blood smeared on every page that had words on it. "I smeared my blood on every page, to remind myself that everything beautiful has a consequence."I stopped flipping and threw the book with the rest. "I hoped to stall the clouding long enough-" I wipe a tear that started to fall "-to give myself to the craft and let myself go!" I sniffle a little but I continue reading from the pages, "I have died so many times!"I grab the mic and make my way across the stage and down the stairs, "So when I tell you," I walk to my boyfriend that was in the crowd and I grab his wrist and I start to pull him to the stage, "That loving you almost makes life worth it!" We walk onto the stage and I spin around to look him in the eye. "I was not joking, When I tell you, That loving you makes me almost forget how much I hate myself, it is NOT poetry! Loving you is taking all the love I could never give myself and putting it to good use" I start to let the tears stream down my face as I watch his tears roll down his rosy pink cheeks. "It is reminding myself that if someone can love a dying thing this way, can hold the declining of my body and give thanks for the way it holds back!" I place my hand on his cheek and he leans into it crying. "If someone can kiss the scars, administer the pills, absorb the bad days, and wake up smiling next to me, then I can try to breathe again." I lower my hand and he wipes my tears as my eyes start to become red and puffy, "Cause self-love does not always come first, or second, or even ever, please let your love be the guard rail on the ledge, be the drawer that hides all the sharp things." I nearly choke on my tears. "Be the body that carries my collapsed frame into bed, be the flowers you bought because even though they are dying to they still dance. Love will not heal me it will not wipe my slate of a body clean, I will always be a woman of wounds, of rope mark neck" I move my hair were a permanent scar lays from all the times I've tried to hang myself. "and melted skin, Love will not heal me but it will hold my hand" I intertwine our fingers "if I ever heal myself and maybe teach me a joke, that I can stay alive long enough to laugh at" I touch my forehead  to his and look down as I speak the last words of my speech "I love you, enough to want to love myself too." I drop the mic and latch his lips to mine and the crowd cheers when they realise that I have finished. He grabs the mic and slowly speaks "I will love you for internet and beyond" He grabs my hand and guides me off the stage while everyone cheers with tears.
End.