My mind is racing.
I'm remembering things I once blocked,
remembering things that once brought smiles
and now bring tears because I miss them so.

I remember when you treated me like a princess.
I never thought I would enjoy that.
You called me sweetheart,
and when you hugged me,
you held and swung me
so my legs swayed to and fro
like those of a doll.

I should have known I was just a doll,
just a toy.
I wish I had known I was nothing else,
maybe I'd be sleeping tonight.

But then I remember her smile,
my hero's warm, welcoming smile.
I cry because I can't remember her voice -
it's been too long.
I remember her face simply because I see the prints
on my wall, the pixels on my phone,
of the days we were minutes away.
Two hours is too far.
And once every two months is not enough.
You can't go that long without a friend,
without a role model,
without a hero,
at least when you're me.

But I cry because of how he changed things,
and I cry because of how far she is from me.
But I smile because in a week, most will change.
I will see her smile again and forget his,
at least for a short while.
But I still cry because I focus on the negatives,
rarely on the positives,
especially in the dark.
And maybe if he didn't change his ways,
and her smile was next me always,
but not in print,
maybe I'd be sleeping tonight.

Because she's the only one who will get through to me,
one of the only ones who will listen to me.
Everyone says they understand me,
but everyone includes him,
and that's why I won't be sleeping tonight.

I get so much judgment for talking about you
and what you taught me,
what you saved me from,
what you have inspired within me.

I am even given judgment when I tell others
of the times when you protected me
from my peers,
and even from myself.

You don't even know my history of
physical self-harm.
You only know how I put myself through misery
without a care.  I won't ask for help.

You're my hero because
I didn't need to ask for help,
you gave it regardless.
And I get judged for telling people that.

Granted, I talk of it a lot,
but you mean the world as a hero should.
I won't stop talking about you.
In a week, I get to see you.

You don't want me to come back,
because you think it'll be best to stay away.
Stay away and detach from that place for a bit.
But I can't not see a friend when I can.

I want to catch up, to talk with you,
to not face the judgment I face every single day
from every single person I know.

You are my hero,
I will never forget it.
You were there when no one else was.
Hero, I won't forget you.

I wear all my valuables
because I trust no one around me.

I wear them when I shower and sleep
because I know when she and they see

an opportunity,
they will grab, and they will steal,

until everything in which I have put care
is gone, until it all is demolished in their hands.

It's been four days,
going on five.
Where are you?

You're the biggest **** I've ever met,
and you think you're a saint.

You act like you’re the only one,
the only one who has urged to self-harm
to make the pain go away.

Tell me about it.
Tell me about how you’re alone
and pain might be your sole escape.

You’re going to tell me anyway,
because you’re alone and I know nothing.
I’ve never harmed myself.

I don’t use my hands against myself.
I don’t hold myself back from fighting back.
I don’t let myself hurt myself.

You’re alone,
no one gets you.
Right.

You don’t see reality.
You don’t see that it’s you who gets no one,
it’s you who makes others feel alone.

It’s you who’s made my hands turn on me,
and fight the physical and mental battle
against myself.

You act like you’re the only one,
the only one who has gone to self-harm
to make the pain go away.

Strangers never take the time to know me.
Assuming is all they do.

Whenever she talks,
it's about us.

That's where you're wrong,
because, unlike you, I don't talk about

people
I don't know.