Tuesday, July 30, 2013

Gone

Sometimes I want to fight.
Stand up.
Fight him.
To the death.
What do you do when someone does that to you?
Pisses you off so bad that you just want to jump across the table and start stabbing them?
But you know if you do that, they'll die, and eventually, it's going to hit you.
So instead, what do I do?
I sit here and chew on my bottom lip, sit on my hands and I glare at him, send my thoughts into his mind.
Why did you just say that?
Why aren't you saying anything?
Why do you do what you do to me?
Can't you understand I hate you!?
I shout at him.
All I get in reply is a stare back and then him sliding his thumb across his ipod, changing the song.
That's it.
I slam my fist against the table, get up, and walk away.
I run to the restroom and start tearing tissues from their rolls.
Mascara turns to thick, black, filmy, tears and I throw a trashcan at the mirrors.
Or atleast in my mind I do.
No but really, I just keep sitting here,
Say something!
I destroy myself.
In my mind, he pushes me to the ground and leaves.
But then, later on, he comes back and finds me laying my head on the table.
And he's crying with me.
He just does that.
Chokes my heart.
Catches my feelings on fire.
He's why my wrists are numb, he's why I want to die, he's my reason why.
Sometimes I think I'll run away.
All alone.
To Florida.
Fuck the past, I'll have no past.
Just a bright future.
Running all the time.
I'll call myself Katie and I won't have a date of birth.
Or a home place.
Or a favorite song.
Or a past.
It will all be stolen away from me somewhere along the way.
I'll just mentally forget.
Sometime's I wish you'd save me but you told me that that wasn't your job.
You hurt me and I start crying and you tell me to grow up.
And something about being a warrior.
You tell me to fight back as if I wont.
"Bye." you say, and leave.
You make me plead for you to stay because I'm so tired of you saying goodbye.
You know that without you, I'd be nothing.
That's why you do it.
Because I love you.
I get up now, kiss you on the head, and I leave.
Not because I am strong but because I am weak.

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