.·:*¨¨*:·. Hopeless Romantic .·:*¨¨*:·.

a good dog doesn’t bark. he doesn’t whine. he sits and stays. even when the teeth dig into his flesh. he is silent.

i don’t know why i do it. maybe it’s because i think i deserve it. maybe it’s a punishment for the perpetual guilt ive felt since childhood. maybe i enjoy it too much to stop. maybe it’s because to be sick, i need the proof on my body. maybe to prove myself i need to be sicker. maybe i am not sick enough.

i sit alone in the yard. the chain is unhooked. i sigh with my chin against my paws. there’s no point in being here. there’s nowhere to go.

i miss the little girl i used to be. i miss the little boy i never got to be. i miss the man i wish i could have become. i miss the woman i will never be. i miss the brother i could have been. i miss the daughter i never quite was.

the ache never truly goes away. but one day, when you’re sitting outside on a spring night, the stars twinkle down at you. and you decide to keep living anyway. and one day, you learn to live with it.

i cut myself. my mother knows. i told her i had stopped, the scars were old. i was lying. we both knew it. she never brought it up again.