Write Boldly Part 2: Loving What Isn't Mine

I actually wrote this a little over a year ago. I wasn't originally planning on posting this as my second part in my series, but the essay I had written has somehow been lost in my endless pile documents on my computer. So this will have to do. Although it isn't a hard topic as last weeks, it's still personal and bold in my opinion. Many people are too afraid to write what they feel, let alone post it on the internet for all too see. But this is about writing boldly, even when we fell like bottling up our feelings. Side note, I do not feel these things anymore but the feelings that are written below I felt for over nine months.

12-9-13

In that final moment, everything had faded away. No harsh words were spoken, not even a goodbye had slipped from any of our lips. I had known it was all falling apart for a while, but the refusal to accept it had made the crash landing that much harder to bare. The boy I had fallen for has fallen for my best friend, and she is slowing letting me go to hold on to him. It seems like ages since I knew he felt the same spark, and with her, I don’t think she realized we have fallen apart. Just months ago everything was perfect, I was actually happy to go to school and live my life. Now whenever I look at them tears form in my eyes and I wish my body would just go numb. It’s so ironic how I look at them, wishing they would look back and see all the pain I’m in, but when our eyes meet, I quickly look away because I don’t want them to see how much I need them. You sometimes hear about those kids who feel like they have an empty hole where there heart should be, and they feel nothing because of it. I envy that. Instead I have ripped up heart, made from the knives of the people who once protected it from all harms way. Its not like I really know why they have decided to leave me, but I think I have a clue. Why love a bleeding heart, when you can love someone new? So I guess it ends here. We’ll go our separate ways, and I’ll hope to see them again somewhere in the future. I wish it were so easy to believe that. There are days when I think I have accepted my fate, and others I sit on top of my bed for hours staring at the dark ocean blue walls of my room and wonder why, why it all happened, why did they forget, and why can’t they see me now, desperate for love and affection. Have I officially become invisible? And if so, is that all bad? Is there good in evil, or am I just tricking myself? So many unanswered questions that fill my mind and make me want to explode, but there is always one thought that overrules them all. I can only think about how I have nothing, because the last of everything has just slipped from my grasp, and like a child I’m crawling to get it back. But I have realized you can’t have something back when somebody else has already taken it. I know I should move on and forget them like they have forgotten me. I even have a right to be mad, so why aren’t I? Why is it when I look at either of them, or anybody who has hurt me in life, I only thinks, “What I would do to have it all back”. Why do I still love what doesn’t belong to me, or even loves me back. The thick black fog of depression where the insults echo, the bad thoughts repeat over and over again, where starts to consume them and they feel like that there only escape is slicing away at what’s left of their unmarked bodies, not realizing they are only hindering themselves from actually being able to run away and escape the poisonous mist. And just like that it has hit me. How little I mean to everyone, and how nobody would even notice if I disappeared, especially not them. They killed all the good that was left in me. As I look behind me, I can see the fog slowly creeping up on me. Soon to consume me like its other prisoners, and I don’t know how to escape it.