Dear who I lost,
I miss those talks we had, about the future. How one day you were going to get down on one knee and make me yours forever. How you’d come home and find me running round in the kitchen trying to impress you with some fancy cooking. How when I called you to the table, your feet wouldn’t be the only ones tapping towards me, but other, but smaller ones. I believed that one day it would happen, and I looked forward to them, I looked forward to spending my life with you.
You were perfect, I’m not just saying that to you, if you asked the people I talk to about you, they would say that I never said a bad word about you. I didn’t care how tanned or tall or muscly the one week wonders were that my friends chased after. Because I had you, the quiet boy in the corner that no one really spoke to. I discovered you and I loved you.
Then you started lying, I didn’t understand, but I lived with it, ignored it, mentioned it sometimes and when you said sorry that made it all okay. Then they got bigger, things that weren’t quite as easy to ignore. Then there was that one, about that girl, who lived in that place, with that other girl. All lies, I knew they were lies the moment they came out of your mouth. They didn’t exist, nothing made sense, but why would you lie about that, it didn’t make you look any better or improve anything in-between us. Then I noticed. I discovered why you lied. Every time I said ‘I love you’ it lacked the ‘I love you too’ which had once been said without pause. I asked something different, instead of expression, I asked a question. Do you love me. The answer had a sigh, then a two letter word, not three.
My world crashed down around me. Yours didn’t, because two days later you were off with the next one. Two days. I was left for two months crying myself to sleep every single night, clawing my own skin, asking what I did for you to change so quickly. In that two months you had an number of new dates. My mind was still plagued with you.
I tried to get the pain through to you. Tried to show now I felt, purposely making my sleeve go a little higher so you could see my scars. Then I did it right in front of you, on the other side of the room, I didn’t even know you were there until the blood was already flowing fast, threw a vein, my skin turning purple around the edges, dying my sleeve. You just looked, smiled, and walked away as I looked at you threw teary eyes. A smile as if to say ‘Look what I can do with just one word. I win’.
Just thought id say. Im still like that. I was wondering if you feel any quilt. Any atall. Maybe your reading this, making up your own attention whore story, probably stating what a bitch I am. Making up some horrific failed suicide story which never go further than the corridors in your mind. Maybe your reading thinking. ‘Is that her?’ ‘Is she talking about me. Well if this mean anything to you…
Hi. How are you? You left your coat at mine by the way.