i'm not over this
if this is what it's like to breathe then i should be dead.
and i swear my heart stops every moment you pass by
me and when i see your (blue) eyes and the sadness they
carry, i want nothing more than to remind you of the times
we spent together, creating memories i can't forget. oh dear,
don't pretend that you don't suffer (i can see it in your eyes
even when i tell myself that i see hate). but don't tell me that
when you see me, you see all of this as a (blood) game because
if it were, i would be tired of bleeding, vomiting, and crying. is
something like this hard to see in your eyes? if you want proof
of everything that i've done then let's sit and chat and i'll show
you the scars, the reasons why i made them, and who i made
them for and then surely, we could try to put this all behind us.
i wouldn't be bleeding if this had never happened. how could
you ignore this (me/thebleeding) as your silence brought out
the worst part in me? because scars are the deepest when words
were never spoken and when she tried to help, i ignored it because
i didn't think i needed any sort of help (but soon enough, i found
myself crying to a stranger that i didn't even know who told me
that it was "okay" to feel like the way that i do as i sat on a couch,
scratching at the scars, causing them to bleed again). but now that
i am willing to receive it, i asked a simple request from her (to
have questions that we want answered) only to received nothing.
and this continues to consume me when i wish that it were dead and
buried. and though i admit that it's not as bad as before, i believe
that this is gradually becoming worse because now i see you instead
of there being distance between us. it hurts to look into your eyes
when i know that you could at any moment, catch my glimpse and
we would meet eyes for the first time in what seems like forever.
although i can tell myself over and over again that i'm ready to
speak to you again but over and over again, my heart tells me
that i'm not ready – that my scars aren't ready for the burning –
and i don't want you to see how weak i am because i don't want
to breakdown (again) when words are spoken. and i could never
tell you how many times i wanted nothing more than to fall asleep
and not wake up at all (that way, blood wouldn't splatter against
the walls and stain the carpet – oh, how tragic i can hear them
whisper behind closed doors). forgive me for being so cliché.
i never imagined it would hurt this much to see you after such
a long time (because i thought it was worse never being able to
see you again). for someone who was never much of a friend, she
seemed to care for me more than you ever will. after everything
that was never said between you and me, i find myself bleeding
with bile caught in my throat, keeping in down for reasons that
i dare not speak. but it doesn't hurt to say your name anymore
(because i have it carved into my skin) although you still remain
the same person when you left me in silence to bleed. i feel like
i can do nothing but force the imperfections out of me by bleeding
away what i manage to choke on (and what i'd rather not speak).
author's note: this start out a lot better than it came out. i'm sorry if it sounds so confusing but my feelings are empty and could never be put into the right words. things that have happened in the past few days ... inspired me to write this.