i don't want to remember

do you remember when we asked each other where we
might be five (and/or maybe even ten) years from now?
we laughed as we made fun of the people we knew but
we didn't laugh when it came to each other because we
always thought we were going to be the best of friends.
but now, i have your initials carved into my skin:
incisions made by a rusty razorblade just to prove how
much you mean(t) to me. sew my mouth closed because
i don't want to speak your name again. staple my eyes shut
because i never want to see the scars among my wrists again
(though i would still be able to feel them). or – better yet –
give me amnesia so i don't have to remember anything
about you anymore or (if you want something less drastic)
erase all the memories i ever made with you. because
it was you who first made the razor meet skin and with
bitten, bleeding lips and tears falling, i couldn't stop (to help)
myself. i felt so numb that it was the only way i could feel
(anything at all). but i don't want to be like this five years
from now – i don't want to feel hollow and alone,
scratching at self-inflicted wounds just to feel the liquid
red soak into my clothes. and the bandages couldn't hide
my scars when i first started so who thinks it could hide
them now? maybe if you had shown more of what i knew
was in your heart (at the time), scars wouldn't have the
need to accumulate. and you just don't know how much it
hurts to be fighting against the very thing(s) that cause(s) me
to bleed (along with everything that they don't want me to be
but i can only be myself not what they want to mold me into).
like the way you lied to me, i'm lying to them so they don't
have to see the way i suffer and they still don't know who
is doing this to me (i think they wouldn't even believe me
but some of them don't even deserve to know). and just
for one day, i wish that i wouldn't think of you (but the scars
haven't disappeared). nine months later and i still can't forget.

February 17, 2006