I wrote a letter once.
Of all the things I wanted to tell you, but was too afraid to.
I wanted to tell you how you made me feel like my heart was ripped out of my chest and stomped on.
I wanted to tell you that you made me worthless and that no one would ever love me again.
I wanted to tell you that I feel like an imbecile for ever thinking I meant anything to anyone.
I wanted to tell you that at 3:35 in the morning, when I'm awake crying, you're the only person on my mind.
I wanted to tell you that you're the reason I have to have caffeine pumping through my veins in order to function.
but I didn't say any of that.
I told you that I still love you.

my thoughts are jumbled like a jigsaw puzzle not yet put together.
the missing piece I need, after it is said and done, is you.
yet, you are over there and I'm all the way over here.
I long for your touch, your presence yet I have neither.
how do I put the puzzle together without the missing piece?

I want to kiss every sad thought out of you.
I want your awkward curve pressed against mine.
While your silently weeping, I want to be there to wipe away your tears.
Your smile, the one you hate, is my favorite thing.
You're my ray of sunshine on a rainy day & you deserve to be happy.
I want you to see that.

If you look at my outer shell,
you see a happy person
but if you look underneath that,
you see the agony from
everything.
Self-harm for not being good enough.
Thoughts of not wanting to be here any longer and just being engulfed in every single thing that's wrong with me.
Where did I make a wrong turn on the road of life, the passage that's needed to have happy teen years?
I look in the mirror and I see a tortured soul who just yearns to give up.
She tries to be strong for all those around her but she can't hold on much longer.
The darkness is trying to engulf her and this time it's winning.

And I haven't been much myself lately, and this pain in my chest has been getting more difficult to handle. I just can't sleep at night anymore.
And I think a part of me had died quite recently.
Maybe I should look for the piece of me I left behind.
But I'm too afraid.

Beds lie about comfort.
Sighs wrinkle sheets.
Nights are not complete and ceilings are painted with deceit that tomorrow things will be different.

Those words, I can feel your words bouncing around my insides ricocheting off my finger tips, slinking down the awkward curve of my spine. I know they settled for a while in my stomach where I tried and tried to boil them alive. Those words, those terrible words that you said. And couldn't possibly have meant. Those words? I love you.