Semi-Requited Love

1

She loved him. Why is that so wrong? She had never wavered in her defenses for him. To keep watching him fall was just not acceptable anymore. To rise up again, you have to know that someone is there to help you, there to care about you, there to accept you.2

So why does he keep pushing her away? What happened to the time that he had loved her as much as she loved him? If she accepted him for who he was and probably always will be, why couldn't he love her for who she was? Why was she being condemned for the values that she was raised with? Eternal grief was not something that she had planned for. Why was her passion for learning and for writing such an isolation sentence?3

He was what she continued to live for. She had brought herself to the brink of death time and time again only to come back to school with an angry red scar written across her left forearm to stand strong, wishing she had just let herself bleed. How could she stand two feet from him alone, digging her nails into her skin, and know he's not coming over? Does he honestly see her anymore? Does anyone see her? Eons of despair exists in her open heart and no one even tries to console her.4

Her aquamarine eyes seemed so soft, so sad when she looked into the mirror at night. How can he look into her eyes and not see her fall? She crosses over to the box that she returns to each night and eases open the lid. There it was: an innocent instrument of death. So clean, shiny and polished; you can't see any clues on the blade that would reveal her secret activities from night to night. 5

Her hand trembled as she snapped the lid shut. Not tonight. She need to learn control, she couldn't keep dying inside; she just didn't know how to live anymore. He had taken her heart, trapped her soul and yet he gave her existence. Inspiration only comes now from his daily torture. His kiss last year still rests on her pale lips. She had to let go, but again, she didn't know how.6

She peered into the box again as her trembling hands lifted the lid subconsciously. There it was: her eternal escape. Her thought as she lifted the blade from its pedestal and tears ran down her translucent cheeks: why couldn't he just love her again? As the blade pressed into her already torn skin, she wondered: will he notice her death? She had lived her life for him and now she'll die to let go of him.7