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She had wrinkles but no memories.

She had laugh lines but couldn’t remember the last time she was actually happy.

Is it how much I can pay?

How much my parents can?

Is it what I have done?

how much I could have?

But I guess no one truly knows that.

So how much am I truly worth?

Would I be killed off early in a movie, with no one to care?

Would my soulmate bat an eye at some other woman, feeling nothing was wrong?

Would my parents feel the ache of the absence if I was never born?

Am I worth anything?

Am I nothing?

Or worse, am I less?

For weeks I’d let every snarky comment, loaded glare and judgement filled question go.

The countdown of your departure smothered any annoyance, anger and sadness that you inflicted.

In its place I thought of the additional space I would have. I thought of the lack of missing clothes and food. I thought of how clean our house would be. I thought of how I’d be finally free of my biggest tormentor.

But now you’re gone.

And I don’t think I want that anymore.

I don’t want you to be cooking your dinner in some other kitchen.

I don’t want you to be sleeping under some other roof.

I don’t want you to think of somewhere else as your home.

I need the girl who would hear my problems and solve them for me.

I need the girl who would pick me up from school and go to parent nights.

I need the girl who would hate people even after I forgave them.

Each breath added on to the intrusive crescendo

I blinked and no longer was a person but a snake coiled in a straw basket.

Each second, I became tighter waiting and listening.

I blinked again and in place of scales were flames.

Everything I touched scorched and charred, each answer burnt short.

I was hatred, I was rage, I was vexation.

Finally she turned to me, and asked me what was wrong.

I thought I was ready. Yet anger betrayed, fleeing the aggravated scene.

Leaving me dwindling and apologetically hopeless.

“Nothing, I’m fine.” But I felt the warm wet drops as they too left.

I hated crying especially in front of her.

I cry now and she hugs me.

I cried then and got nothing.

Maybe it’s futile, pushing her away now, in retaliation for the past.

But I can’t let that girl be okay with what she was given.

“Oh honey..” she exclaims as if they are her own tears. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

______________________

I blink..

my toes are frozen, blue as the deepest ice.

Each breath no longer built, but tore shreds somewhere within.

The straw basket was left open with nothing inside.

As the air around choked, the fire went out.

Nothing.

Nothing was wrong, and that was the problem. Nothing had happened and I felt homicidal.Nothing had happened and I wanted to burn the whole world to the ground.Nothing had happened, but I no longer wanted to breathe.Nothing had happened and I wanted nothing more than to just disappear

But you can’t say that.

So you say you’re fine and you make something up.

She dosent believe you but as your tears dry, she moves on, she forgets.

And everyone is fine.

Except for the person who withers away slowly.

The dripping doesn't stop, it goes on like an echo

Stuck in time, an air bubble in amber.

Wilfulness comes and goes like the tide

Pulling regret in and pushing dignity out.

Every wake is filled with hatred.

Every night is filled with blissful ease.

Promises to myself, pushing the knife in deeper.

My stomach is hot, scarred from the countless bottles.

Its an aesthetic, lonely girl and red stained lips.

Its not a problem, its nothing to be ashamed of,

Put then I wonder why I always do it in the quiet of my room.

I wonder why I schedule the weekly clean out.

I don’t want to do it anymore,

But I cant stop.

Every two am wakeup, doused with a headache.

Every breath becoming heavier and deeper,

Trying to counteract the last pour.

My throat becomes restricted,

With the selfishness of it all.

So many hours and thoughts,

Wasted on someone who deserves nothing at all.

They aren't going to see all the hurt they inflicted.

Nothing you say, will cause change.

To protect yourself, realise that.

That person who seeks retribution, time and love.

Won't ever receive it.

I dont say this to be mean.

I say this to save you from further pain.

Well what happened I thought you wanted to be a writer ?

I did.

So why aren’t you then?

I don’t think I was good enough.

You were!

No I wasn’t. And I realised that there are two types of people in this world. Those who were meant for greatness and then those who were made to acknowledge it.

Not of others but of myself.

I don’t know why, maybe it was the heightened perceptiveness, observing things you wouldn’t have before.

Maybe it was because I never had to dwell on that of which I said. Something which took up too much of my time.

Maybe it was the lack of thought that came with it, I wasn’t forced to be someone who I had created.

Maybe it was the way that intention, somehow became as clear as mirror.

I see the black wisps from the corner of my eye.

I try and bathe in the holiest of waters, but the tub is only filled with the night after I am done.

I hear the demons and devils at dusk, waltzing in the ballroom of my mind. The dark tune’s ricochet within my veins.

I know I am not as I appear. Large doe eyes, make me seem sweet and naive.

A cunning lie.

For if he saw the truth, I don’t believe he would not of come closer.

For he is sanity and I encompass everything but.

I often wonder what he saw, what he sees. Because I know no mirror will ever show me.

In the beginning I did not care. I believed he owed his premonition.

I had seen his type and I had played this game before.

I knew my opponents, I knew when to play and for how long.

Yet as we duel, I see his wisps, white and angelic, beautiful like his soul, seeping into the ebony of mine.

It needs to stop. It needs to end.

I can’t do it anymore, I won’t. But he won’t listen, he tells me he loves me.

I scream, taunt and cry. But all he sees are acts of devotion.

I try to lie, but there is something harboured deep within his eyes.

Something that I put in there that, that denies me.

No matter how hard I try to warn him, he soothes my aching wounds.

I have ached and mourned, but never to this degree. If I must die to save his mind, than so be it.

I give my being for his life, his soul and his meaning.

She told me that I haven’t responded to her in the past few weeks.

I apologised, told her I would try better, and I will.

But how do I explain to her that I don’t think I’ve existed for the past month.

How do I tell her that time hasn’t occurred, cause if it did, what the fuck have I been doing?

How do I tell her that my hands haven’t stopped shaking for the past month?

How do I tell her that the thoughts are back? Or that I have these thoughts at all?

How do I tell her that I’m not sure I’ve slept in the last two weeks, stuck with shallow unconsciouses and vivid dreams.

What to think.

How to act.

Who I should be.

There was no shaping, only cutting.

If they saw what they did not like they removed it.

Told me it was malignant, and who I was to argue? I couldn’t remember what they were talking about.

There was no room for sadness or anger, not for mine anyway.

If I cried, I was dramatic.

If I was angry, I was selfish.

If I didn’t ensure their feelings, I was the victim.

Loneliness had become the earth and I the sun.

At first it screeched and scratched but as time went on, it started to smooth. Until being alone, was a soft harmony that soothed and kissed my skin.

They talk now and my eyes burn, their belated care scorching the lack of child within.

As if all the damage they did were only shallow scratches and not the ever expanding trench that I harbour within.

They ask of me now, their eyes imploring.

But they never asked her, even when she begged them to listen.

She’s the only one I ever feel, she’s the one that withers away.

My judgement lies within the past and no present or future can change their verdict. I fear they lost that cause too long ago.

A monster was made, and she cannot be undone.

…

She looks at the mirror, large eyes look back.

As if that will mend the wound.

I float in the silence, questioning his intent.

I wonder if an answer is needed at all.

His eyes speak yes, but they are shallow.

I have two moves on the board.

The first is the truth, both scared of it.

The second is risky, to those who play with the unpredictable.

But I know my foe.

I begin the dance, he follows.

3 steps in, and his mind begins to wander.

5 steps in, and he stumbles

7 steps in, and he’s gone.

Duller.

Is that better?

It is easier.

But are you living?

I breathe for those I know, never for myself.

Is there anything I can do?

I just didn’t need you to say it.

I’ve known you since we were five.

And yet you take the opportunity to tell me 15 years later.

In front of your new friends, maybe your new cool friends.

A small part of me wants retribution, but I love you too much to ever hurt you on purpose.

But you use to laugh at my weirdness, you used to endorse my weirdness, you used to be weird too.

You’re my friend.

One eye closed, one eye open

Is this the life I want to live?

Searching for a meaning and finding it in an empty bottle?

I tell myself I’ll remember these days and see how far I’ve come.

But I’m starting to think, that there won’t ever be a day 1

Each night I disappoint my morning self

Resentment to the purchase

I’m not sure that’s something you’re meant to want.

But I think it might be my fault.

Maybe I’m just too damaged.

Too everything.

And not enough of something.

I mean there’s one common factor.

I think I may of used its absence, as an excuse.

But in its use, I just became more…

Well, became me.

I think that’s why I want to apologise so badly.

I used being unwanted to become unlovable

And unlovable to become hated.

I know they don’t think that, but it is what I feel.

I’m not proud of this person, I don’t want to be this person.