Sleep

I've been here for years. I know her like the back of my hand, reading her to me is easier than breathing....and yet, I didn't see this coming.

I know her expressions; how she laughs when she really means it, the pitch of her screams when she's terrified, or the pace of her sobbing when she's crying from pain and nut just because.

Maybe I refused to see when those expressions became empty, meaningless...merely another motion to go through for the day. Her existance, as she saw it, was meaningless.

Now, don't think I didn't try to help. I did everything I could, every single thing someone in my position could. I love her. Yes, I still do, even when she refuses to believe it. She became my world, the one I had to help, a friend...and more.

It may have started when she finished school. Or when we moved. Maybe it took longer, it started with the pills. I should have noticed when she broke that promise and simply stopped caring about what happened to her. To us...

She's holding a white mug, filled it with milk and coffee. Her expression is vacant, her eyes empty. Her lips part slightly as she takes another sip of the drink. Slow acting poison, just another drug.

"Do you think he'd have come here if I'd asked? Left everything for me like I'd have done?"
I can't reply to that. I don't know what to say.
"Yes. Maybe."
She chuckles, shaking her head. The gesture is mechanical, she's practically an automathon right now. She's as good as gone. And all I want to do is hug her, take her in my arms and hold her against me, let her listen to my heartbeat, tell her I'm still here, and all because of her. All I wanted was to make her as strong as she's made me. I believe in her, even now.

She won't look at me. She stares at the wall, or the floor...anywhere but me. She knows what she's about to do, we both do. And it's killing us both, her more literally than me.

"Do you think I should have told her how I felt? Even if it was just...well, something that would just fade away?"
I try to cup her face, but my hand against her skin is like smoke, maybe a gentle wind. She can feel it, but it's not what she needs. she needs someone here...someone she can FEEL, someone she can see like she sees everyone else. She longs to be loved, for someone to feel for her what she feels for those she cares about. She can't see...and it kills me. I know there's many of us who love her, who'd do anything to see her smile, even if it was just for a second.

But I know I'll never see her smile again.

"You should have told her. And everyone else. They all should have known what you thought, what you felt..."

And I should have told you I loved you more often. Showed you in more ways. I shouldn't have made promises that didn't depend on me. I should have kept my word to you.

At least I know there's one promise I can still keep. And I will.

She won't look at me. One by one, she snaps the blisters containing the pills and sets them on a bunch over the table. She counts them two, three times, clicking her tongue. It's a fairly small dose, enough to put her to sleep for days. But that's not what she wants.

She wants to sleep forever, and I can't stop her.
She takes out the bottle of vodka and places it beside the pills, unscrewing the cap and taking a swig, craning her head back and opening her mouth, dropping the whole bunch of pills into her mouth and swallowing them. Her eyes close, and I can see tears rolling down her cheeks, the image obscured by the watery cloud forming on my own eyes.

She finally did it, and I can't decide if I'm proud of her strenght, or dissapointed about the fact that she just ended her own game. She'll never know if her feelings werw truly reciprocated, or if her dreams would come true. Her marks in this world will fade, present only in the memory of us who loved her.

She lies on the bed, squeezing my hand, her eyes finally snapping open and locking with mine.
"I always wanted to be like you, Red."

I can't talk. I'm choking on my tears, holdng her hand as tightly as I can. She chuckles and smiles, her breath becoming slower, more shallow with each passing second. I can barely feel her pulse. Still, her hand holds mine with a vicious strenght.

"Never let me go, Manda...guide me through this."

I just nod. Her eyes are closed again. I kiss the tip of my fingers and place them over her mouth.

Her skin is cold. She's not breathing anymore.

And still, she hasn't let go of my hand. And she never will.

At your side, on your left.

Always.

Someone, please...help me. Help us. Make sure this stays like this: just a piece of fiction writing.

Someone help me save her.

Old thing that needed publishing...

Get up. Take a shower, you haven't left the bed in two days. Three hours before it happens.
Girl, you're gonna die. Amanda Young is going to die tonight.
I'm biting my nails while Jill tells me to relax. She says it's not that bad, that it will be over before I know it, and then, it will all be peaceful- but then again, to Jill, everything is peaceful.

A Lot Like Love (Ranting Again)

In response to "Brutality"

There isn't much to say that hasn't been said, is there?

But you can't deny that, even then, there WAS something. Call it a connection, a feeling...but there was something. And I'd like to think it was that "something" that kept us coming back from more.

Believe me, I didn't want things to happen like that. If I could have had things my way, I'd gone for a little romance, the "talk-and-date" kind of stuff. I've had enough brutality in my life to have to add you to the list.

When I came here, I thought I could leave you behind. Thought I'd never have to think of you again, and tried my hardest not to. Everyone said I was better off without you, that I looked happier, healthier, better in general. Can you blame me for wanting that? And can you ever forgive me for trying to be normal for once? I went against my nature, I know. Everyone wants to try conventional happiness at least once in their life, I think.

Again, I want to stop writing right now, never post this, delete it all and pretend I never tried to pour my mind out in this "page". But I won't. Determination is the key here. Determination and perseverance.

I admit it, I'm ranting about everything and nothing, about things probably only you will understand. Guilt and hurt and blame are devouring me from the inside, burning me slowly and painfully, like acid eating away at me from my guts out.

I hurt you. And even when you more than likely deserve it, it hurts.

“Love Will Tear Us Apart” is playing on my iTunes now, and I could almost laugh at the irony. It probably will, eventually. But it’s also what keeps us coming back, isn’t it?

You love me, don’t you?

You’ll always come back, right?

Will you ever forgive me?

I wouldn’t.

Pfft! Yeah, right, I wouldn’t. I’ve forgiven you for worse than this. Of course I would forgive me for this. Nothing you haven’t done already. And I give a shit whether you tell me or not, it’s the same fucking thing.

Yes, I’d like to be the only one. Hell, I think I deserve to be. But you want others. Many others, so I’d rather have you share them with me than leave me for them. Besides, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it, but it does…burn at times.

Yesterday, I saw myself in a movie. No evil exes, don’t worry. In any case, you’d be one of them, but I always found evil fascinating, it’s a little pattern of mine when it comes to dating; the more dangerous, the better. It turns me on, if I must say.

Now I’m thinking of chocolate and cherries and syrup and ropes- because I’m fucked up like that. It’d make for a great night, a very special one. That is supposing everything special between us is still happening, but I don’t know anymore.

I hate you. I hate myself. I hate hurting everyone around me, and I hate having N around to tactlessly point out every single one of my failures in words that many before him have used, but never so lightheartedly.

I think I have nothing left to say for now. I’m ranting, not thinking straight, letting every single negative feeling in me fuse with love to write down these mindless words that will probably do nothing but hurt whomever reads them and understands.

Maybe I just need to…disappear.

Ah, a little extra…this song.

Always and never

A.Y.