!(tw: s.h)!

I broke last night.

I broke because I looked at my leg;

Noticed that my scar,

The one I was repeatedly told I would hate,

The one I kept loving,

Is fading.

Fading into the background of my skin.

Now that my skin is peppered by hundreds of other scars it seems to sink.

The part of my history that I remember.

The funny story that accompanied it.

The people attached to it's memory.

They seem to sink.

The jarring sight it used to create seems muted now.

Because of the multiple times I broke.

When I broke and so I broke my skin.

Over, and over again.

Should I hate it now that it seems so much less?

Should I have framed it?

Drawn a box around it to ensure nothing could reach it's colour?

It's still there;

Still a large reminder of a mistake.

But I miss the people from the mistake.

And the scars around it are no mistake.

At first glance it reminds me of camouflage.

At second glace it seems otherworldly.

At third glance I no longer search for it.

I still yearn for it but I know it is no longer lonely;

It is alone in itself,

But no longer lonely.

Should I be happy?

I was told I should hate it.

Now you no longer "see" it,

You see the thin red lines around it.

All of those horizontal,

This one vertical.

Should I hate it more now?

Or is this more reason to adore it?

I cant't decide and so I colour outside of the box once more.

I love the sun, I love the trees, I love the butterflies and the flowers; I love my dogs, I love my friends. 

At times I even love you. 

But it is impossible for me to live in that love for I fear how you will love me. 

Will you love me the way my parents do and forever corrupt me or will you love me like they do in the movies.

Holding me, loving me, cherishing me. 

Or better yet will you love me the way I love you, wanting to be everything but always fearing you are nothing. 

Would it be the way I do, as though you have fallen into the ocean and you’re sinking and your throat is closing up and you know you should fight, should try to reach the surface; so you kick your legs a few times but you already feel tired so you let yourself sink to the bottom, disgusted in your weakness but relishing in the freeing sensation running through your body? 

Would we even be able to love each other? 

I know and you know that we don’t love ourselves, that we barely have the energy to say hello, so how would I love you and you love me?

Would I be too much for you? 

Would you be too little for me? 

Or would one of us love the other more than the other loves us? 

Would I ban you from driving in fear of losing you because my entire world would be in that car? 

Would you raise a hand on me, would you stop me from being friends with other boys? 

Would I let you? 

So I would rather love you deep in my heart, in secret, not even admitting to myself that I love you in fear of being left behind than let you love me.

How would you love me?  

!(tw: e.d, s.h, and suicide)!

To: always

I have known you forever. I knew you when we were small but felt like we were big. I know you now that we are big but feel small. 

We have been friends since childhood, never best friends but still, friends. It is a comfortable thought knowing that I knew you before we were hurt, before we hurt ourselves. Before we counted the calories or dragged the silver across our skin to see a red river flow. Before our friends tried to kill themselves. Before we missed the past more than we longed for the future. I knew you before and I hope I’ll know you after. 

But with every feeling of comfort there is a fear of abandonment; a feeling of being afraid of losing someone you already have because you know that one day you’ll wake up knowing they aren’t in the same city as you anymore. That after years of knowing they were there, even if you never saw each other, suddenly, they are gone. That pillar of comfort that was always there to support you has crumbled at last.

A week ago you left; we both are still in the same city but you no longer are truly here. And I miss you. I feel off. As though, something is missing. Suddenly I am off-balance. Someone could tell me the Earth is no longer rotating and it would make sense. Someone could tell me we were all a dream and I would just nod and accept it. Anything would make more sense than this. Anything would make more sense than you being gone. I guess this is what I was so afraid of. This is the feeling that terrorized me daily. I always thought I'd say goodbye you in an airport, not before your grave.

I thought we were finally happier. We laughed more often. We stood closer together. You cared for me and god knows I cared for you. You picked up the phone at night after the bad days; after him. I held your hand when you broke that one random summer night. I thought I had put you back together nicely but I must have forgotten a piece. We were comfortable with each other; in each other. You were my normal and I was yours.

Please forgive me for not noticing the missing piece.

I wonder if you can hear me right now and I hope you are listening because I am so sorry. I'm so sorry that I let you take care of me more than I took care of you. I'm so sorry that I didn't tell you how much I loved you more often. I'm so sorry I rarely hugged you. I'm so sorry I didn't tell you off for your see-through lies. I'm so sorry I didn't you make you feel as though you were enough. I'm so sorry you didn't love and didn't hope. I'm so sorry you chose to leave with your razor blade. I'm so sorry that you won't have a constant wherever you are. I'm so sorry I didn't communicate how important you are to me and how, often, you were the only one who stopped me from doing exactly what you did. I'm so sorry you bled out. I was your constant but that night I was useless. I'm so sorry that our years that are hazy to me but crystal clear to you were not enough to stay. I'm so sorry I was not constant. I'm so sorry I wasn't enough.

I hope you can feel me swipe my thumb over your hand every so often, that the wind carries my touch, carries my words and carries my love. I hope you pop by and say hello once in a while. I hope you are waiting for me somewhere so once more we can be constants.

I don’t remember most of my life but I know you were there; and often that’s enough.

I guess it’s true, nothing ever lasts forever.