Someday, you will be loved.
You were sad and lost. And once, I was too. I saw myself in you. I wanted to save you. I wanted help you heal. I wanted you to have somebody because once upon a time, I had none.
She clutched the crumbling paper in her hand. The writing long faded, the words indelible. Too painful to be called nostalgia, yet not enough to be called pain itself.
There have been times when I wish I wasn't alive. Times when the pain was too much for me to do anything but curl up and cry. The pain never goes, it becomes a part of you eventually.
They were sitting together, side by side. Shoulders pressed together and legs tangled. Hands fused. Her eyes shut, she lay with her head in the crook of his neck.
Everytime I see you talking to my friends, it kills me a little inside. You can talk to them, but not me. You can laugh with them, but not me.
I want to see myself from others eyes. Do they hate me as much as I hate myself. Do they despise me. Do they abhor the ugliness in my heart like I do. It was a warm October day.