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I find it hard to breathe just thinking about it. I lay sprawled on the soft mattress of my bed and stare up at the ceiling just thinking about it. Would he find it cringe if he knew what I thought about? Would he dismiss me if I told him about my feelings? Would he still value me if I told him about me of before? I was already at a loss as I had to text him multiple times before I got a reply. I knew it was stupid, I knew I was a lost cause, I knew he'd never want me. But pretending was a very good attribute I had. I loved to pretend I wasn't minutes from crying. I loved to pretend the redness in my cornea was as a result of a gust of wind that threw some dust in my eyes. I loved to pretend that I was worth something. I loved to pretend that maybe it wasn't so bad after all, that maybe on another side of the universe I was actually better than how I was right now.
I had cleared the room of all mirrors so I don't get to see my reflection. I hated the way I look. The shape of my face, the way the corners of my eyes crinkled a bit, how small my lips were. I hated my arms, they were too tiny and made me look sickly. I didn't like the way my legs looked either, they were too huge and didn't go well with the frame I had. I completely loathed my body. And I'm sure he did too. That was why he never picked up or decided to call back when he saw the fifteen missed calls I gave him. That was why he didn't reply to the twenty five texts I left him. I heard a sharp cry, one that sounded like a wild animal in pain. It had come from me and I had doubled over on the ground, trying to shake the sickening thought in my head that I was something good to look at. I could feel the tears streaming down my face, blurring my sight. My lips trembled and I clenched my fingers, digging my nails into my palm. It never felt like this. The pain, the hurt, the misery. I was a numb human barely living till I met him. He showed me something new, something different asides from the daily and in order task I had. He showed me what it was like to love someone to the fullest, unconditionally. He showed me what it felt like to want to do anything for someone. He showed me what it felt like to want to give my life for someone. I had said I'd burn the world for him. I'd take lives if it'd give him one.
Take it away please! I heard myself scream. I didn't like the way I felt, I didn't like the way I sobbed, the sound of it, the vibration running through my very being. It felt like a building had collapsed on me and I had to somehow manage to stabilize it on my head and prevent it from crushing me. I unclenched my hands and clenched them back, biting into my lips with my teeth and drawing blood. Maybe physical pain would do just the trick. Maybe I won't feel this heart wrenching thing I was feeling. Maybe it'll all end.
Maybe if I'd stop being a coward and actually do it, it might end. I still remember how it felt stuffing my face with a pillow to muffle to cries that came out from my lips. I felt the tremor, the wave of hate and loath wash over me, I needed it all to end right there and then. If this was what living my life would be, then I didn't want to be part of it. And now, still sprawled on my bed, I think about the knifes in the kitchen drawer downstairs and just a minute away from me. I didn't know I'd like the pain of being gutted or having a knife plunged into me but maybe that was just what I thought. Maybe that's what we've been forced to believe, made to believe--that it was some gut wrenching feeling to be stabbed. Maybe it isn't. Maybe it's something else entirely. Maybe it's wonderful and beautiful and probably the most inciting to ever exist.
Thanks for reading;)
