Hello, Alex. You look so good today. Like you did yesterday. Your smile is still as cute, and your eyes as shiny and hipnotizing. I want a hug now, and many kisses later. It's a demand.

She wrote these words in my notebook, in the middle of class.
I smiled and looked at her.
Sent her a kiss.
She blushed.

Next class we sat next to each other.
She was tired; stayed up late doing homework.
She would rest her head on my shoulder, and hold my hand.
I could feel the *butterflies in my stomach, and my heart racing.

After school we both went to her house.
She put on her pijamas, and got into bed.
I layed next to her, holding her in my arms.
She looked so calm and pretty.
I started giving her little kisses on her cheek, on her forehead, on her neck, on her lips.

Oh, her sweet lips!
She gives the most sweetest, tender and loving kisses I've ever had.
Her kisses are full of passion and care.

I could hardly breathe.
She has the ability to make me lose my breath.
My heart was racing, and she could feel it.
We kissed and held each other tight, marveled at how our bodies fit perfectly with one another.

My hands found their way under her blouse, drawing her slim silhouette with my fingertips.
Running down her chest to her stomach.
From her hips to her thighs.
Her skin was so soft it felt like velvet under my fingers.
She started doing the same to me.
Her fingers traced a distinct line going from my chest to my belt, and further below.

Her lips were still upon mine.
My breath still missing.

Her top was off.
My shirt also gone.
Her arms around me.
My arms around her.
Hands going under the clothes.
Heavy breathing.
Muffled moaning.
No more clothes.

Her body couldn't be any more perfect than it already is.
I was lost kissing her tasty neck, biting slightly, while I grasped her small, perky *******.
Her skin was so warm and cozy.
I couldn't get enough of her.

Me touching her.
Her touching me.
My breath was nowhere to be found.
I felt ecstatic.
I was in heaven.

After all was done, we both laid there, right next to each other.
She was still in my arms as we both tried to catch our breaths back.
We looked at each other in the eyes.
We smiled at each other and kissed one more time.

*I could've died in that moment.

Again I find myself sitting in this lonely room,
listening to the empty echo of my own thoughts.

Day after day the same routine:
Get up.
Conceal yourself.
Go to bed.
Repeat.

This machine is fully functional,
yet lacks a definite purpose for existing.
It only takes up space.

This loneliness I can bear no longer.

I run to get the nearest blade.
It is rusty and old.
As broken as my own dreams.
I hold it shakingly between my fingers.
I draw a crooked line upon my wrist.
Before I know it, ink is gushing out of the wound.
It keeps on pouring until it leaves me dry.
It floods pages upon pages with words,
with phrases,
with verses.

These same pages remind me of wounds long healed.
Of the struggles I've been through to end up where I am now.

The pages tell a unique story.

My story.