I wrote this piece when i was badly depressed a few years ago on the back page of my homework. I have a large folder tucked away with random letters to people that never got sent, if anybody wants for me to post more just leave a comment. – Jennifer
The scars that I thought were temporary seem to be lasting longer than expected. The grease I have on my heart is sticky, hot and burning my insides out, tearing me apart. Your eyes, burning also – but with delight, finding happiness in other things. I used to be happy to. I researched to the deepest corner of every library of any book and any sentence; but no words can explain how I feel. I’m hurting, and I can’t make the pain go away. Everyday is a ritual. Every-night is a curse because your in my dreams while I used to be in yours. My smile is clouding over my intolerance then sensation of crying. Over and over again i think nobody cares if i just broke down in tears, recently i’m breaking this thought up piece by piece by displaying myself as emotionally dry. No smile, no weakness.
Lost in a war inside my own head, battling myself on a daily basis. I don’t think I have the tolerance to do it anymore. One day, i’ll crack. I’ll break myself for good. Piece, by piece. Until there is nothing but my sticky burning heart left. That was once years.