I left my dank room today and went to the library to search for something I don’t wish to remember. Did you see me? I was the girl walking back and forth through the shelves, skimming the titles. I’m sorry, I just can’t breathe when I pretend I’m not watching you. My eyes pass over your reflection in the window. It’s much more beautiful than the sky beyond my glass barrier. I’m always watching from the other side of the window, looking for something I’ve already passed. Cherish me as if I was precious because these flashy clothes are hiding the ugly girl wearing them. And my silver smile is attempting to chase away demons resting on my shoulders. I’m missing my angels that fell from the sky, staining their wings black with blood. We are not angels. We cannot fly past the white Eden of clouds. “We are not crows.”
I apologize for only being able to apologize. Whenever I attempt to write the script of a romantic comedy, your voice rings in my ears and I can’t think anymore. I’m trying to be nice. If my smile looked at hers, would your eyes reflect something other than contempt? I’m sorry again. I’m sorry for wrapping my fingers around your neck. I was only trying to grasp at you because you kept running away.
I can only copy what I read and pass it off as wit. I don’t think I’ll make it to college because I plan on slitting my wrist. I’m always sorry because of the future I was supposed to have. I straighten out my smile in hopes of being something other than hideous. I try my hardest; I lie. I’m selfish to the point of no return. I fall in love with everyone I see because they’re all more beautiful than what I see reflected in the cracked mirror. I want to kill 98.9% of the people in the world. I am a violent person. I am a used bomb that will be thrown away. I scream when no one is home because the echo makes me feel more lonely. I isolate myself, so I won’t hope anymore. I faked sadness when you sank six feet underground. I always do. I’m the only one that can make myself sad. I use and abuse myself. I swear like a bastard, but I refuse to drink, smoke, or do drugs. I’m sad because I want you to see my sadness. I never sleep, but I’m not an insomniac. I pull out my eyelashes to make a wish that won’t come true. I’m repetitive. I slouch. I write all the time because I’m too scared to say it to your face. I’m falling in love with you. I close my eyes in hope of never waking up.
Rikki [not romance]