bloody & (heart-)broken
she left me to bleed and be (heart-)b r o k e n
because she didn't (and she never) cared for me.
is this what she always wanted?
i'm pitiful and pathetic, full of blood
that is (willingly) ready to be s p i l l e d from
cuts left by a rusty razorblade.
she promised me that things would get better
but i've gotten worse (thanks to her and the
venomous words she fed me as i drank
them like they would save me ((when they are nothing
but cyanide eating away at my insides)) ).
and now i'm questioning my every move,
scared of myself and what i might do (to scare
my family and friends). they think i've become
bulimic/anorexic (i can see it in their eyes)
because i've lost color in my face.
but this is what i'm doing for her.
these are my (vain.unworthy.pitiful) attempts
to become beautiful: blood from my arms and thighs,
burning acid tears from my eyes,
and the putrid substance from my stomach.
this is what i've become and i don't want to go
back to the way it was before everything happened
because now i know that this is life (and there are rarely
fucking happy endings where the ((selfless)) princess
is swept off her feet by the ((dashing)) prince.
screw.all.fairytales ((because life doesn't work that way)).
they are just lies fed to children).
and i passed by the hospital (the one i should be in for
bleeding so fucking much and doing it all for her),
where she volunteered that summer (my life began
to d i s i n t e g r a t e). and that was when the anger came out as
my attempts to try were futile. it was as if she had built a wall
around herself that only came up when i was near.
and yes, there was hope (in june of 2004) when i thought
she and i would get together and laugh as if
the big gap had never happened.
but it wasn't as simple as that. and a year later,
i said goodbye to all i knew and left for a place
that is filled with hate and adds to the other things
that make me bleed (from too many cuts on my wrists/arms/thighs).
i wrote about everything i wanted to do but never
had the heart to do it until may of 2005 when i couldn't
take the pain of heartache but felt numb enough
to d r a g blade to skin. and i'm telling her to forget everything
she (thought she) knew about me because i'm not the same person
but i'm (almost) thankful for that.
the blood s p i l l i n g from my arms leave pools of blood
for (only) myself to see because no one cares
to take a step back and glance one last time
at the girl they thought they knew
because i'm (still) doing it all for her.
January 16, 2006
sorry for the length. i really didn't intend for it to be this long. and yeah, i can't help but write nothing but angst for the past (forever) months. it just hurts. i tried to tell her. i tried. i guess i just tried too hard. and it pains me to say that, it really does. because she really was an extremely good friend of mine.