So bored, scrolling through social media sites.
I see you've updated.
Excited, I message you.
Just a simple, "Hi."

Shortly, I realize my mistake.
The recent picture, it shows you with your friends.
Laughing, having fun.

I remembered what you said yesterday.
"I'll be at the carnival tomorrow!"
Your face in the photo looks so, so happy.
Smiling brightly, eyes shining.
All the things I could never make you feel.

What's the point anymore?
I delete my message.
You won't be answering anyways.
You're out there, having a great day.
And where am I?

Just here.
Wherever that is.
Sitting, staring at this screen, watching, waiting.
It's all too much to handle, imagining you today out with your buddies.
Playing in the sun, on the carnival rides
without me.

We used to be close, so close.
What happened?
I was thrown out, like a broken toy.
Tell me, to you, am I nothing at all?

Unbearable.
I scroll past the picture trying to hold in the tears.
It's all too much.
I can't do this anymore.
I can't pretend.
It hurts, it hurts so much.
I know, deep down, I still love you.

Even though I cut that ribbon, it's weaving back.
Why now?
It shouldn't do that, you clearly didn't care.
So why still do I?

I clutch my chest, let out that sob.
The tears come falling.
The ribbon's back.
I'm sorry.
I don't want to hurt you.
I feel so, so, alone.

I'm so sorry.
I fell in love with you all over again.
It's torturous.
Once again, I'm feeling alone.

My last words to you were, "I'm sorry. I should've told you before I left."
And yours, "Don't abandon me."

My dear, these bottles shake-shake-shake in my hands, in my mind.

you do too.

And soon, I am to follow.

My turn to go up next.
The teacher glances toward me and nods.
I grab my instrument and walk to the front of the room.
A chair and stand awaits me.
I set the sheet music on the stand and take a seat.
"Whenever you're ready," he says.

I lift the french horn to my face and pause.
I remember the people before me who went,
eyes full of fear.
Hoping with every ounce of their soul
that they won't mess up.
My chest constricts tightly.
I struggle to take a breath, then begin.

The first note is perfectly on pitch.
So far, so good.
The phrase flows smoothly.
The piece goes well,
until I take a risky glance around the classroom.

A knot forms in my stomach.
Everyone is looking at ME.
Expecting ME to do well.
My fingers fumble as I miss a note.
I panic and rush the rhythms,
not caring if I miss the pitch.
I just want this TORTURE to be over.

Their gazes are icy.
The piece ends and I swiftly let my instrument down.
I hang my head low.
The ones before me look grim.
Surely I had disappointed them

The director says nothing.
The silence is KILLING me.
I feel my face flushing red.
The room is getting warmer.
"Next?" He asks, prying that I should take my spot.
I get up and take my things,
then do exactly that.

The next person plays perfectly.
I applaud with tear-stained hands.
They are praised well as they walk to their seat,
beaming in glory.

Who am I to pretend
that I understand this madness
called success?

A long time ago, I used to stare into the sky.
Watching with amazement,
breathtaking glory.
That was until you happened.

I felt a fluttery feeling in my stomach
every time we talked.
I began to realize this feeling.
It's what they called
love.

We were young and dumb.
Hopeless adventures.
I used to think,
maybe,
"does she love me back?".
We could talk for hours
and never tire.

Suddenly,
hours seemed like only seconds.
Every moment we couldn't be
together
was a living hell.

I became too invested
in you.
I abandoned my health.
Sleep didn't matter
anymore.
I'd lay awake until you would respond.
Messaging until the new morning.

I started to worry about how you thought
about my looks.
I parted my hair differently.
You saw it, smiled, and said,
"You made my day brighter."
I was foolish.
I thought you loved me.

Various unfinished artworks.
Too afraid to give you my confession.
I remained quiet
but somehow
you already knew
and said nothing.

Until that fateful day
my dad forbade me.
I couldn't spend time with you anymore.
Only in school.
That was all.

I grew depressed,
started prying open my skin.
Wanted to feel pain.
Wanted to feel "alive".
I quit after my mom saw the first scar.
You knew
but said nothing.

I told you about
my restriction
on seeing you.
Next weekend,
I am brushed off like
A broken toy.
Once used, now boring.

You brought someone else.
I was shattered.
I sunk further
into this endless void.

Eventually, my sexuality got leaked.
You were hesitant around me.
Nothing was the same.
Nothing.

You knew
everything.

I decided to end it all
right there.
11:34 p.m.
I sent you a text.
Waited for a response
with tear-stained cheeks.

You knew
everything.

You told me those words.
You saved my life.
A week later,
you had the other person over again.

I throw away all the art.
Everything I poured my heart
into.

I sink deeper.
You never loved me.
I knew that
but said
nothing.

Here we are
once again.
I pull back my sleeves.
That red spot on my wrist
it looks like a burn,
except it was pencil.
Scratch.

It reminds me of the night sky.
This mark is my
star.

The first snow has fallen; oh how it sparkles in the sun!

All she wants to do is run around and have fun.

Yet, there is work to be done.

This battle she's fighting seems won.

But, no one can tell

from fear and pain, she runs.