My Silence

As I'm left again, as I have been abandoned again. For the second time I've realized that I am nothing, I do not mean anything in this world. My existence is simply only a presence, it has no definition, and does not conquer the world with happiness, only darkness and pain. Now, at least it does. My heart actually aches of depression, and my body dies on the inside only to show what pain I've consumed. I guess a bottle can't save my life, nor take it away. I remember hearing it, and thinking "Why?", and "Why me?". Why is it always me that has to have my heart broken for the same reason. It's been played with, tortured, and tormented with. Does it not mean anything? Or, perhaps; I don't have a heart. You know... they left me, they told me I didn't matter, they didn't care what happened to me, they didn't need to understand how I was feeling, they didn't listen... And you couldn't live very long without a heart. Mine has been pulled out, tormented, stabbed, and thrown to the ground, as will my life. When will I actually be loved? I've been told that I'm so loved, and that I'm cared for as if any other person would feel the same. But my realization that everyone is just saying it because it's required is killing me. Although, the pain doesn't feel the same anymore. It's more of a numbing feeling. As if it's happened too many times before to the point where I don't feel a thing anymore. I'm used to the silent crying every night, for hours, I'm used to the knife hitting my skin whenever life gets too rough, I'm used to the piercing sounds of ones harassing me, I'm just simply used to it. I'm frozen inside, maybe not with the same intensity as how frozen my life is.
Sometimes, it just feels as if I've fallen asleep, and I haven't saved myself from the nothing I've become. Like I need to wake up from the nightmare that falls beneath me. Tonight, I realize that there's only one thing that I've engaged in that will always guarantee me happiness, and will always love me unconditionally. It's love hits my skin as it's sharpness caresses my scars, and shows me what the pursuit of my life is really suppose to be about. It whispers to me sometimes, and it's referred to as my blade, my razor. My token of hope.
I scream for help, on the inside. I cry for someone to save me from myself, for someone to show me love. But nobody listens, I'm rejected, I'm ignored, and most of all, hushed. As if what I say, or what I think doesn't matter. I know it may not mean much, but it does absolutely mean something at most. Inside my head, thoughts and words I should've said. I suffocate in my regrets. I can't take back anything, but the things I never said, and the things I never did. There's a possibility... that all that I've done, is useless, and worthless, like myself. All I've wanted to say, all I've wanted to do, is wait for someone, to hear me. Wait until they hear my silence, and notice my absolute nothing.

I'm sorry for whatever I've done. For being ungrateful, for never being enough, for never doing as much, for never helping myself, for never being the daughter, friend, lover, and beautiful woman you wanted me to become. I'm sorry for what I've said, for what I didn't say, for what I should've done, for what I've done, for what I've should've said. But now everything's going to be okay. Everything will fall into place. Love will be the echoing in my ears, when everything is lost and destroyed. And when hope is gone, and my arms and legs are under, my love will be there still. For you're the only one who can see my panic in my eyes, and you can kiss me and hold me when I cry. The essence of you makes me feel like I'm worth it, even though I know I'm not. It makes me feel a little less out of place in the world. Just don't hurt me like the rest, tear my heart to pieces like the others. Please. I'm too weak to handle that, I'm not strong enough to carry my heavy heart of what it's been deprived of. And I think I know what I've become. Do you see what we've done? We're gonna make such fools of ourselves. You've taken everything from me, and I love it. But I don't know why, why I stay, why I love you so much. You degrade, understate, and shame me. I just can't crack your code, but your safe is with me.

What if I asked you? What if I asked you to just do it... would you? If you loved so much, and enough  to never life without me. And we achieved it together, we achieved happiness. Forever, or not at all. If I took the gun, and you took the kiss. Would you really do it with me? When all else failed, and we had nothing left in life but pain and regret, would you pull the trigger with me? Killing two birds with one stone. If you take the gun, and put in up to my temple, our cheeks adjacent to each other, would you do it? If I just asked to take my life away, with yours. Together. If we were so assured that nothing in our life would ever go the way we planned it to be, ever again. It seems as if going together shows the romantic and the beautiful. Our deaths would be nothing more than an attempt to save ourselves from the world, just an unknown attempt. Thank you. Thank you for going, thank you for promising me, thank you for jumping with me, thank you for dying with me, thank you for being my light, for being my rock, for being my hope, thank you for never giving up on me, thank you for allowing me to not feel the cold anymore.
Thank you for letting me give up with you.