Crying

Crying

By Margaret Nicolas Decena Alpajora

Saturday 17 March 2012 [0334h]

I feel...

Too much I feel!

I'm trapped inside a body full of feeling, I believe I need to leave now.

Choking on my own breath, blinded by my own tears.

Fear.

Fear that I've done the wrong thing.

More fear that what I did was the right thing.

Fear that I can't go back.

Most fear that I might go back. In fact,

I am confused.

Though I stopped letting my feelings out in public long ago,

I refuse to hold back, fact: I don't care anymore.

I must write, I need to

I bleed words when I suffer. In other words

When truly in pain, I write. No shame. I am. I do. I think. I feel.

Unfotunately.

I feel.

Too bad.

For me.

He said he cared. There. Now you know what's wrong.

I was.

Wrong.

Still, he said I'd never know how much he cared.

I believed him.

Believed he loved me more than I could imagine.

So he'd come to me right?

I just needed to know he would come to me.

So I decided to wait. And wait I did. And wait...

... And wait.

And wait.

But nothing.

Wait!

No... still nothing.

Here come the waterworks.

I wonder why he says he cares if he can't even be the first to speak. I'm weak.

Yes, very weak.

Several times I nearly gave up.

Open skype.

Close skype.

Again. Again. Again.

Facebook.

Lingering on his wall... Type... Delete.

Close page. Open Page. Type. Delete. Close page.

Inbox. Type. Delete. Close inbox.

Again. And again. Still again.

Pick up my cellphone. Put it down.

Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Type. Delete. Down.

Again. Once Again.

But he said he cares right? So fight.

He says I must see. So show me.

Waiting... Nope. Nothing.

Crying. Stop! Distract yourself! Nope... Crying.

Enough!

He said he cares right? So where is he?

Complaining that I cannot see what he isn't showing me, tell me what you want from me. See?

He's not there.

Still crying.

Bleeding.

Am I bleeding? No... Feels like it though. No.

It's worse.

More blood than a thousand knives can draw.

Much worse.

What am I bleeding?

Dying. My heart is dying. It's dead. I'm writhing. I'm cold. And crying.

Crying.

I can't distract myself anymore.

I'm just crying.

It hurts. My heart. My head.

It really hurts.

I'd write more but I can't think, I'm weak.

It hurts.

Stay away.

I'm done with you, we're through. In truth, I don't really want to, but I shall.

I'm leaving cuz you left me crying after saying

"She still can't see" after I said "Make me!", and you didn't even try...
When I told him it was over, he didn't even care enough to reply. 

Goodbye.

... crying