Scratch That, I'm Done For

August 20, 2008 - Wednesday
Current mood: depressed
Scratch that, I’m done for.

Only do I wish on your love every night, that every particle of my being aches. It's tearing me apart from the inside out. Can you tell if I'm putting on a false front? No, because no cares enough, especially the one I need the most, to pull me out of this hole I've dug for myself. Perhaps, subconsiously, an early grave? I need him to care; It keeps my stitching from disintegrating. Sometimes, its unbearable. I pick up the jagged pieces of my heart and put them in a bag. Put the bag in the empty space where my whole heart used to reside, and expect to function at the same rate I was going. Fly away, butterflies in my stomach, for I have no use for you. You just make me sick. Fly, fly away. Never return. Good riddance to you. Somebody rescue me from the darkness? There's got to be someone willing. Come, step forward, saints and martyrs alike. One by one, they take off, sprinting into eternity. Not ready, nor willing to heal the heartache that is mine. To that I say, go. Run. See where it takes you. Farther away, you think. No; the problem is underlying. The soil beneath your feet, tips of roots, meters below. You cannot escape, but by all means, try. Navigate yourself through the thickly concentrated fog. Or could it be despair? Either way you can't breathe. I realize I can't breathe and gasping for air doesn't do much good; I only suck in more of the poison. Everything goes black and I realize all I want is you. I love you with everything inside of me. I only wish to know how you think of me. We've been over this a thousand times before, but the faintest light at the end of the tunnel is hoping your stubborn answer might change. Hurry now, our ever precious time is quickly fading. I see your smile, your caring, soft eyes, your ruffled, brown hair, all beautiful to me. Your level of compassion is unheard of, and there's so much of it, I can almost see it. And if only you wanted to embrace me, if only you looked at me the way you look at her. Unfortunately, 'if only' is all I know. Thoughts, dreams, and occasional smiles are all I have of you. It's destined to go on that way forever; watch me try to find a way out of this abyss. I grab onto trees and they simply flick me off and withdraw their limbs. "Maybe I'll escape..." the faint flicker of hope within me says. It's no use. The silent plea is soaked in doubt. I never was a lucky one...