edited: Monday, December 02, 2002
By Deborah L Logan
Posted: Monday, December 02, 2002
Become a Fan
I sat in my floor shaking and scared writing this so I didnt cut. I think I might have been crying.
This is one of those times when I wonder what you would do if you ever truly saw me. You see me crumble in front of your eyes and blame it on being a teen. But what about these cuts on my leg? Are they just me being a teen or are they my way of reaching out and asking for someone to love me and for you to let me be loved? I need you, even though I am pushing you away. I want to bleed and dammed it I canít bleed. I have skin that is too strong, just like my soul. Or not my soul. My heart. I have the strongest heart I know and it is breaking right now. Maybe I put too much on myself, but if I take any of it off I disappoint you. I canít disappoint you. You mean too much to me.
I need you right now and you canít see it. I wont show you, you have made it too far in. So I was supposed to only be a game, huh? Thank God that didnít happen. You love me and I know it. I couldnít have lived as a game. And Iím shaking. And Iím crying. How the hell did I let you in? I know this is going to hurt more than anything I have ever felt inside and I donít know if I can do it. But I need this. A quiet, strong safety. Thatís what I am supposed to be and Iím never supposed to be weak. But I feel your hand on my back and that is erased. Then I can let it all out, cry all of these bottled up tears. And you just hold me and tell me that you love me and I know I have found what I was looking for. Did you know that this would turn into something so real? I dream about you, when I dream. And sometimes itís just a dream of you and me and nakedly in love. I let you see so much, too much, of me and I should regret it. I donít. After what you gave up for me, I can give up these fake masks for you. Does that take strength or weakness? You know I donít want you to love me because I could hurt you. Shit, I will hurt you and there is no way around it. I canít breathe now. Which colors? Blue? Pink? No, I will not think of that. Not the pretty colored pills. The phone is right there and I could call you. You are asleep, hopefully. You need sleep. I can make it another hour before I need you. Right? Just an hour. Then I can hear you tell me you love me and that it will all be OK. Can I keep it all down that long? Iíve laughed when it hurt the worst, I can smile to hide the tears. For 56 more minutes.
Thank you. I knew you would keep your promise. That means a lot to me. Mom thinks you are creating my problems. If I hang around depressed peopleÖ Yeah, sure. Like I told her, maybe Iíve been like this all along and she hasnít seen it. She shrugged it off and told me that she sees everything. Heís not going to fuck around on me. I tried to be, but Iím not. The radio holds my soul. He wonít. Heís too afraid of losing me. He proved it to me last night when he held me tight as I cried. But it wasnít tears I cried, it was tales and secrets crying from within my heart. Iím cold. Thatís an improvement. At least I feel again. Feeling is such aÖburden. If I didnít feel, I could die and I wouldnít care. Scary thought, Iím not afraid of death. But comforting. Would it come already? I am so sick of the soap operas and the hidden meanings that I put out. Who holds the key to opening up my tales and reading what they really have to say, to reading between the lines? I know who it is, well who both of them are. But one refuses to believe that the other loves me and that doubt kills me in so many ways.
Sleep welcomes me into its embrace and I slink off, defeated once again by the raging battles of life.