that girl who got hospitalized
i used to be like her.
after you left.
why did you even leave, what the fuck was so important that you had to end it like that?
what kind of things could you have been going through, that caused you so much pain
enough to want to escape any way you could?
i never knew, you never told me
your lips were sewn shut from day one, how could i have?
was it him? was it her? was it all of it? or were you just as terrified of everything as i am, now, but not too afraid to die?
i can imagine you there, sitting in the tub, in an inch of your own blood,
your pale lips turned down and your brow furrowed.
i can imagine what you'd tell me now. well, no i can't.
i don't even know what your voice sounded like anymore.
i hadn't heard it for years even before you slit your thin white wrists.
i wonder what it's like, wherever you are now.
if you're alone, if you're happier, if you regret it.
i wonder if, if you could go back, you'd put that blade down and walk away from it,
face whatever problems you had, and live, live because you knew where you'd be if you weren't alive.
i wish you would.
i wish you were still here.
i trusted you, probably more than i should have, considering you never spoke a word.
i miss the days when we used to walk to the end of the road and sit on the roof of the abandoned car at the lake there and stay there till dark not saying anything, just sitting there, not even talking, just being content that we were alive.
someone today reminded me of you, but it wasn't you, and i almost cried because i know i'll never see you or talk to you ever again and that is the worst part about all of this.
i want to go back to the way things were. to the way i was.
i want to go back and sit on that fucking car until it corrodes and collapses and my hair starts to gray and my skin gets soft and wrinkly and i close my eyes and it's finally over and everyone i knew forgets i was ever there at all.
i'm messed up now, because of you i suppose.
probably not your fault at all, probably it's everything else.
it's probably building up underneath my skin and one day, one day i'll do the same as you did.
i'll break the skin, and i will let it out,
and nobody will ever be the same.
after you left.
why did you even leave, what the fuck was so important that you had to end it like that?
what kind of things could you have been going through, that caused you so much pain
enough to want to escape any way you could?
i never knew, you never told me
your lips were sewn shut from day one, how could i have?
was it him? was it her? was it all of it? or were you just as terrified of everything as i am, now, but not too afraid to die?
i can imagine you there, sitting in the tub, in an inch of your own blood,
your pale lips turned down and your brow furrowed.
i can imagine what you'd tell me now. well, no i can't.
i don't even know what your voice sounded like anymore.
i hadn't heard it for years even before you slit your thin white wrists.
i wonder what it's like, wherever you are now.
if you're alone, if you're happier, if you regret it.
i wonder if, if you could go back, you'd put that blade down and walk away from it,
face whatever problems you had, and live, live because you knew where you'd be if you weren't alive.
i wish you would.
i wish you were still here.
i trusted you, probably more than i should have, considering you never spoke a word.
i miss the days when we used to walk to the end of the road and sit on the roof of the abandoned car at the lake there and stay there till dark not saying anything, just sitting there, not even talking, just being content that we were alive.
someone today reminded me of you, but it wasn't you, and i almost cried because i know i'll never see you or talk to you ever again and that is the worst part about all of this.
i want to go back to the way things were. to the way i was.
i want to go back and sit on that fucking car until it corrodes and collapses and my hair starts to gray and my skin gets soft and wrinkly and i close my eyes and it's finally over and everyone i knew forgets i was ever there at all.
i'm messed up now, because of you i suppose.
probably not your fault at all, probably it's everything else.
it's probably building up underneath my skin and one day, one day i'll do the same as you did.
i'll break the skin, and i will let it out,
and nobody will ever be the same.