A/n: Don't go playing stupid. You know this is about you.

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A Letter To You

by, Cassandra

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There's no point in even asking you these questions anymore. I've said it all. It's all been done. There's nothing left to say that could possibly make a difference. I'm sick of trying to get your attention when I know that once I get it I'll be too scared to say what's on my mind. These words have been on the tip of my tongue for years, but I'm beginning to think they'll never be said. (because, of course, I'd need to say them in order for you to hear them, but that's not even the point to this.) What is the point? Is there a point?

I'm scared to death of you. I'm scared of your (lack of) reaction. I'm scared that you'll look right through me. Have I become that good at being invisible? It's a sobering thought. So, tell me, what do I need to do to get your undivided attention? Do I have to stoop down to the level of those you (try to) help? (would you even reach out your hand if I did?) Do I have to lie to your face, slit my wrist, down a handful of pills, mess up your life enough to get you mad enough to confront me about it? (because you're strong enough to confront everyone else, but you stare blankly at me, pretending you don't see that I might be breaking down. are you scared of me, too?) Do I have to run away to make you notice my absence? (I'm already invisible, so it's kind of redundant when you think about it, but what else is there to do?) I'm getting desperate here, but I'm frozen in place by your lack of... what? (affection? understanding? your lack of need/want/will, to know what goes on inside this head of mine?)

And here we go again, repeating these questions I've already asked because I've drained all meaning from the words. (they don't even hurt anymore. does that tell you something?) I'm not going to over-dramatize this by saying something cliché, like "I'm dying here", or "This is just an empty shell" (even though I've done it before, but I'm trying to tell the truth here), because (let's be honest) I wouldn't care if I was just an empty shell. (do I care?)

I'm not breaking down. I'm apathetic. I'm tired. I'm sick to death of dreaming, cause dreams don't get me anywhere. They don't do anything. They don't give me a shoulder to cry on (ya know, if I even knew how to cry). They don't keep me warm on those cold, lonely nights (no, they just rob me of my peace and bring me closer to crying then I've ever been before).

Dreams are great, if you have something to build them on. I'm empty handed. I'm trying to build my dreams on a foundation made of sand (because I don't know how to build a foundation on "Christ", so stop pushing me! and you, you just don't get it do you? but that's okay, cause I've been lying to your face, anyway) and watching everything I have crumble when the tide comes sweeping in. The only so-called joy I find is collecting all the scattered pieces to start all over again. (it's a twisted cycle, but at least it's mine.)

And I'm so sure that things would only get worse if I told you all of this to your face, so I'm not going to let you read it. (I may be playing a dangerous game of chance, but I'm not suicidal, thank you oh-so very much.) You'd never be able to look at me the same, and I'd be stuck in this same exact place. (you're strong enough to confront me, but you wouldn't. I'm supposed to be "perfect", right? the only ones allowed to break are the strays you take in every single day. is it easier to ignore your mistakes if you just pretend that they're not there? it's kind of hard to do when it's living, breathing, and staring your right in the face, huh?)

I'm writing you this "letter" (which you'll never know exists) and I'm spilling out these thoughts (which hold no meaning anymore) and I'll let everyone else know how I feel (or is it felt?) about you and what you do. You'll be the one left out in this cold this time. And when that day comes (if it ever does) when I finally have had enough, and force you to look me in the eyes, to accept me as I am (how I'm going to accomplish that is a mystery as of yet), I am almost positive you'll cry.

But I'm just going to smile, because like I've said, these words don't mean anything anymore. There's no meaning behind them. They are just words. You can read into the definitions and get the gist of what I'm saying, but you'll never really know what I meant, because I didn't mean anything. (and you'll never know if that's a lie or not, cause you've never been able to tell when I'm lying. you never will. you see, I've made this into an art form.) So, that's all I have to say. (until the next time you do something to make me... want to feel.)

And never doubt that I do love you. (whatever that means.)