|Mon Petit Garçon de Tambour
Author: TropVraiTropVrai PM
Why does it seem that everytime your friends go to get you 'help' that they tend to stop 'caring?Rated: Fiction T - English - Angst - Chapters: 8 - Words: 4,287 - Reviews: 2 - Updated: 02-18-05 - Published: 02-11-05 - id: 1832049
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Have I told you lately that I want to die? Have I told you that it hurts to get up every morning just to hide who I am from people I don't want to know that I am depressed? It hurts! Real bad! And I want you to know that because you don't seem to get it.
Sure, I was really pissed at you and the other you and the other you's sister when you told, but there's nothing I can do about it now. But you told and it fucking ass hurts! Now my dad knows, and his girlfriend. I didn't want them to know. It hurts to know that they know!
I told you at one point that I'd tried to love my dad too many times before and that I just couldn't love a man that doesn't love me. You said you've tried, too, with a girl nonetheless (because you're a guy). I was puzzled because I never understood how the love for a girl is different from the love of a parent. And I still don't get it.
But you three told. Fucking ass told a damned lady that I don't even know that I cut, and want to kill myself- or at least that I tried. But when we talk, we barley scratch the surface. When was the last time you asked me if I wanted to kill myself? When was the last time you asked me if I ever wanted to live? Can you tell me the last time I truly smiled or truly laughed? Thought not.
Have you ever read any of my poetry lately? Or ask 'Mughhh' what I tell her? At least she asks. Sometimes, not that often, but sometimes. She knows that I want to die. I don't know if she knows I want to kill myself. I admitted it. Happy now? No, of course not. You'd be happier at me admitting that I'm depressed. Well, fuck! Looks like I am depressed. Nope, I'm not going to tell anyone and fucking ass neither are you because 'I'm asking you not to'!
There are a lot of feelings vented up in me, mon petit garçon de tambour. That's what I'm going to call you now: mon petit garçon de tambour. What should the other and her sister be called? Ami and soeur d'amis, why not? Well. I think I've said enough. I'll e-mail you the link, so you're probably reading this now; I guess… otherwise it's pointless. Maybe I should send it to Ami, too? Why not? So long for now, mon petit garçon de tambour.