Dear God

I've come to notice that when I find myself breaking, when everything begins to slip away from me, I turn to distraction because I can't even begin to bare the idea of feeling how I did only half a year ago. If I had to swallow all my courage, wash away everything that was just pretend, he'd be able to see I'm scared; everyone would be able to see that I'm so scared. Every time I'm hurting because of him, it kills. It's a searing burn that still stings even after it heals; I'm not quite sure if it really does ever heal.

I understand I can be difficult sometimes, but it's just because I'm scared of being hurt again. I don't want to be used, and I don't want to be taken for granted; I just want to be loved, but my bruises and scars leave me alone and clenching my own heart within my fist, crushing it more and more with every passing second. I'm only hurting myself. As the clock keeps ticking, these minutes keep slipping away and each minute gone I build up my walls stronger because I'm scared to lose myself again. I'm left here fading away from him, and all in fear I wonder if tomorrow I'll be so faded he won't be able to see me shine anymore. If I can't shine for him, who's left to shine for? If I lose myself, and I lose him, I don't have anything left. I'm just an empty glass, an empty glass with an empty soul and a missing heart.

Distractions help keep me here. They keep me from not giving up and letting go. Distractions make sense. They come together and break apart, but they do so with factual reasons behind each of them. Maybe I just like the sense of it all, or perhaps I like how I can always make sense of the unknown with my knowledge. I'm just pleading for someone; I'm just praying for a fix. Why did he promise me he would change my definition of love when he himself doesn't even know what love is? I don't know. I don't know very many things it seems, not even myself. The proof of love is pain, because unbroken happiness is something unattainable; our tears are proof of that.

My biggest unknown is why people are so attached to it. Why are people so attached to the unknown? The unknown is unpredictable, and undependable, and leaves you with scars that can't heal, the stain of bruises, and cuts no bandage could ever hide. Although it makes no sense, I'm beginning to see that this unknown is what keeps us here, because even though it can murder you, it can be your saviour all the same. We draw the unknown with our minds as being beautiful because of the rush, the hope that maybe one day we won't feel so alone. I'll just sit here in waiting, it's all I can do, hoping you won't turn your back on me. When he turns his back on me it's like my life is being silently incinerated before my very eyes. Please don't turn let him turn his back on me, don't let him silence me from his memory.

Let me think about how my world will end, I just need a little more time.