I'm still not sure which one is worse. Pretending it's fine, and talking to you, with that knife still there, or drifting away. I'll see you in August when school starts and I'm not sure what to even say to you. I liked you, as a crush and as a friend, and you said you wanted to talk about it
but I knew I couldn't change your mind, wouldn't change your mind. There are so many people who deal with these things, people you and I know. I just thought,
How could you be so selfish? How could you have the gall to judge, throwing stones when you have a glass house.
How you indirectly judge me and almost all of my friend with your hateful words.
I guess I didn't expect that from anyone, especially not you.
I thought so much on this, asked people their opinions.
Some called you an asshole, to forget you.
i didn't like that. I didn't like the idea of that.
Some told me to try and educate you.
And I know there are people who have it much worse than I do, but that doesn't cheapen my feelings, or make them any less real than anybody else's.
But a wise man indeed COUGH *consultingparacosmist* COUGH told me you were not likely to listen to me if I forced statistics and views on you.
I tried so very hard not to show emotions around you. To not scream at you. To cry because you hated parts of me that couldn't be magically cured.
I was very happy indeed that I had not told you my secrets. Very happy.
This has been such a big part of me, for such a long time, helped shape who I was and you called my problems ugly and harsh words and I was happy that by now I was good at picking up the pieces, flying solo like always. I like you a bit. I've never actually been like, "oh I wanna make out with you."
But it was fun dancing at homecoming, and I liked laughing with you in class. I liked making you laugh, and you enjoyed laughing.
You called me pretty once or twice and I texted you almost everyday, and you texted me back, we sent music links and one time you stayed up till one texting me.
But I always thought I was never good enough for you. To be your friend.
I wasn't mega smart, like you, I wasn't pretty like your crush was (and is) I was awkward, squeamish, so full of flaws. I spent so much time worrying about mine that I didn't notice yours.
And I knew.
I knew for a very long time that caring killed me.
Care too much and you lose them. Care too little and you lose them.
I suppose I cared too much.
But not enough to change what you hated.
I don't know why I felt the level of pain and emotional turmoil I did when you sent those texts that made the knife in my chest.
Gods it was so hard to breathe when I received those texts. I felt so embarrassed. Ashamed.
Plenty of other people have your views, although before this, I would have just called the lot assholes, say f8ck you and move on.
Granted, I knew I was biased in my views, but now it really bothers me tat there are people out there who are so mean on this topic.I forgot the world isn't like tunblr.
Not everyone is so nice and welcoming, and not everyone tries to understand. But I thought people would understand that pain is pain, not matter whose it is, or what it comes from.
I think my breaking point was when you said,
(not knowing my issues)
that the thing that I had been thinking about since
SEVENTH FUCKING GRADE was the "Epitome of selfishness."
SEVENTH GRADE. HOW DARE YOU SHAME ME AND OTHERS FOR SOMETHING YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND.
I have dealt with things differently than you. How you deal with your problems doesn't make you better than me or anybody else.
I just never understood how you could be so close minded on this topic.
I was so- I can't even describe it.
Do you really think we choose to be like this? Do you think I chose to cry myself to sleep countless times because it was so much fun? To be so paranoid of people (I hope they didn't notice I threw up at lunch, or did they just see my scars? Sh*t)
To have all this pain? Do you honestly think to
"Take Cymbalta and toughen up ya ttention hog" would work?
I'm happy I don't have very visible scars on my arms, otherwise you might have seen them. But then again you might have shut your mouth.
Or I might have shown them to you. For a while, there was a time I wondered what it would be like if I told you all my problems.
I'm not a girl "waitin' on some beautiful boy to save me (real lyrics are in parentheses) from my (your) old ways."
But I never expected that.
I almost wasn't in fourth hour one late start day, so tired and so full of pain and I wonder what your reaction would have been that day and the next day they told you.
Mona told me she's happy I'm her best friend, that I met her. That I'm alive. I've told her almost all of my problems.
But I still don't think she completely understands how horrible it is.
But she has told me she's be a mess if I went.
I think a few people, teachers would be in shock.
I've never really felt my life has/had very much value.
But you- your reaction makes me wonder.
Would you finally understand that just because I smiled and laughed, didn't mean I was always happy? Would you even have a reaction?
Would you think I was selfish, stupid, foolish?
Hate me for it?
{I know the secrets of people.
I know there were several self harmers in my classes. Would they see me as a stranger who died?
A sister who fell, battling her demons?
Would it frighten them? Would people go to the wake and thank God it's not them in the casket?
Would the people in my health class from the first half of freshman year understand why I knew so much about mental health?}
I can see so many reactions, but somehow, not yours.
These things are so serious, they affect so many people, and I can't understand why you would be so harsh about this, Kris.
I don't even know how to think about you without feeling a pang of regret.
I know there's a saying, don't ask questions you don't want the answer to, and I regret that I don't quite know how to talk to you. I might try to talk to you during next year, we'll see how that goes.
To see what the hell this was actually about and what I might be making a mountain out of a molehill of.
I saw you, getting my id card, you said hi and I screamed a bit and ran out the doors to my bus.
Then Thursday, you mentioned it and I was right back at square one. I didn't see an asshole, I saw the boy who dissected an eyeball in class solo for me because I'm squeamish as fuck. I saw the guy I introduced to Doctor Who. And you've left me unsure what to do since I saw our friendship as over and you must of thought it was just summer. I'm so confused on what to do because I fucking miss you dammit.
Update: November
I see you and it hurts sometimes. A few days ago it was much worse, but I realise you moved on and I don't mean anything anymore.
