Dear diary, I know in my heart

The kind of man he desires to be

Strong, caring and dedicated

I know he wants to be there for me

With his father's masculine, dedicated hands

That also clutch with a sinister grip

I know that he doesn't want to hurt me

My cheek was barely red and he apologized for the slip

Dear diary, she's hurting again

Her eyes are ice; drowning and swallowed

By a void of tumbling depths

And the trial has been erased: she can't be followed

She lingers alone, always, not trusting her friends

Rocking and patiently waiting for night to fall

So that while her parents sleep, she can sprint

Down the stairs and to the car where they call

Draped in leather that has no seams

Flanked with needles and ivory powder

She longs for her next high, needs her next rise

She waits to feel something that will make her scream louder

That's why she takes the blade to her wrist

Every spare moment she has in a stall

For the pain that sears and flares

Is the victor against the contender that is to feel nothing at all.

Dear Diary, today all my fantasies came true

Waiting on a warm beach, embraced by the sand

He came up to me, crouched down

Looked at me with calm green eyes, and extended his hand.

I saw from the absence of all that I had learned to fear and hate

(The ostentatious flares, the gaudy, distinguished airs)

That he was different, that he had changed

That he was finally beginning to learn to care

I shook his hand and watched him walk away,

Cool and smooth, much like that very first day.

And she approached me, ran her fingers through my hair,

And told me I was the greatest ally

She showed me her arm, which had completely healed

And she told me that she had learned to fly

Without drugs or alcohol, she had finally revealed

That by loving herself, she could actually feel.

But Diary, I awoke with a start

Because seeing what will never be

Completely shattered my heart.