even before i knew it,
i found myself f a l l ing for the guy
with the cute lip ring and brown hair.
he plays drums and is "in a band."
tattoos cover his arms: a drum set,
jesus christ, a koi, and a heart just
to name a few.
"oh, he's nice but i don't think he's the right type of person for you,"
they told me. and through clenched teeth, i (still) want to show them
that i can make it without them telling me all the things (they believe)
i need in my life. they think i'll make the same mistake of summer '07
when i went too far. because the next thing i knew, i was on the floor
and his hands were up my shirt (and do you care to know that i was
choking back tears? i told myself that i must do this in order for him
to like me). but oh, the lies i swallowed dripped from his lips but now
i would rather be nothing and pretend he never existed at all.
i want to prove them wrong and tell them that he isn't like the other
but this could be my heart speaking instead of my head. "i don't want
you to compromise," they told me. broken words and empty pain
turn(ed) into scars across my ankles, tracing the words FAIL over
and over while the blood drips down to my feet. oh, what i would do
to take the blade against my wrist(s) again: to feel the sting, to see skin
opening and blood seeping through. i don't understand how this is still
comforting to me but i do know that this is better than thinking about
suicide. i didn't know it could hurt this much to have feelings for any
one person. i sometimes wish i could spend my life alone but i know
it wouldn't be the best for me because i would still find myself crying.
i can't make the pain disappear.
i can still feel his hands touching
me. i promised myself i wouldn't
let it happen but it did and i swear,
i have never regretted anything as
much as i regret those nights.
i don't know how to give my heart away. i'm afraid of having it
broken in more ways than it already is. they handed it to me in
mere pieces and expect me to put the pieces together again.
i tried ... and it found me sitting on a couch across from a stranger
in the dim-lit room, smelling of stale air. i was in tears but i held on
to scars, biting my lip, and fighting back tears.
i tried ... and it found me beating against white walls, crawling up
the stairs, so weak from tears and sobs, bleeding from scars of
february as the blood dripped to the floor. there was so much blood
in the towel, i had to throw it away or my father and step-mother
would have asked questions i couldn't answer.
i tried ... and it found me bleeding from scars of august with
blood that soaked into the carpet that i had to remove the blood
with carpet cleaner so my mother wouldn't see the stain(s).
this will always haunt me.
he could never want me the way i hurt:
in ways in which there are no words for.
but that doesn't mean i won't try to prove
they are wrong. "you're being rebellious,"
they said. (inside, i laughed and choked
on these memories.)
author's note: i know this is confusing, but i'm afraid it's something i can't apologize for. but if i can, i want to clear a few things: 1) i am talking about two separate gentlemen in this piece. i have mentioned one before in another piece, b u r n strong, and the other gentlemen is a new person completely. there are no words to describe the way he makes me feel... i might regret writing this piece later but i don't care. 2) i have been indirectly confronted with the fact that i am "rebelling." it happened during a youth group lesson one time. this may sound selfish but honestly, i was laughing so hard in my head. i'm sure we all go through a "rebellious" stage and mine must now be taking action. 3) i do miss it: the cutting into skin and the blood but i suppose that's all normal for people who have gone through it? i hate how i find it comforting ... i don't understand why i find it comforting. and 4) this is an extremely honest piece. it was never meant to be this long. i won't lose this battle, i'll prove it to them, i swear.