It kills me to talk to you. It kills me to not.
I said nothing when you asked me what was on my mind while you were holding my hand so tight. I wanted to say, “Your girlfriend’s face,” or, “I should go,” but then I just sat there, and embraced the fact that you were holding my hand.
Everything reminds me of how alone and useless I am.
This is why, sometimes, living is too painful.
And no one knows.
What makes me sad is that I will never be the one who truly broke your heart.
You never wrote me poetry.
The sad thing is I thought I was doing so well. But most of the day I just think of you. I know that will fade eventually. But will I always feel like this when I’m sad. Will I always suffer this way. I just want to cry all the time. I am doomed and nothing good is coming. I thought I was getting over this. I know I am strong and I know I have a quiet determination to be all the things I KNOW I can be. This is just a blip. But I just feel so incredibly sad the majority of the time. How many more times can I tell myself things will change and I’ll be happy. I hate you for making me feel so weak and pathetic. I never used to be this person. Sad, depressed people will bore you and how long can you stick with that. Who will stand for that for too long. I can’t even stand it myself. You pity me and that’s what I hate the most. I don’t need your pity. This is a phase. Isn’t it. Oh please just be a phase.
I so desperately wanted to run.
Run right off the face of the earth.
And drop into the abyss.
Everything was so loud around me.
Yet I have never felt so quiet.
Not even the beating of my heart
could rouse any sense of belonging or life in me.
I was numb.
The room was full but I was completely alienated from the merriment.
Couldn’t I just die there and then?
I hope you don’t find this.
I hope I remain anonymous.
You can read it but you don’t know me.
Even if you think you do, you don’t
I am a secret
and this is my hiding place.