Some days ago you got the truth out of me.

It was one of those small secrets one keeps out of pride, to avoid being hurt. You made me tell you every single, pathetic detail. I felt mortified, but liberated. You knew. Deep down, I was glad you finally knew. Because it was important that you know. Deep within my heart, I wanted you to know, I wanted you to have a small piece of my love, a token of my enduring, tireless feelings for you. The truth. You knew.

It was never relevant. It was not important. It was received with aversion. You resented my gift to you, undermined my great feat in the name of your fear and your underdeveloped emotions. You crushed my spirit once again, as you had many times before when I opened up my heart to you. I was pummeled, writhing on the ground before your stoic, adamant face. Tears spilled, puddled at your feet, wetting the thin fabric of your reality, but you never looked at me.

I am made of see-through glass when I open up to you. You act like a mirror, for the sole purpose of deflecting my own energy, my emotions, my soul, back to me whenever I need you. You’re made of glass as much as I am, but yours is a barrier and mine is a window through which you can peer and stare deep into my torn existence. I am shattered. Blow after blow, I have endured. I have smiled while my heart cried out in pain. I have comforted you, I have held your hand. I have learned to love the smell of your skin after it has been touched by others. I have stood before you with my insides buried deep within myself, and you have not seen them. Yes, I have lied. Lying as a means of protection, lying to keep my tattered, battered, shredded heart from complete destruction. But to you, a lie is a lie, and I am a liar in every sense, every nuance and every disgraceful context of the word.

I am an awful, weak human being. I have wronged you, I have hurt you and I am undeserving of your affection. I am damaged, I am sick and I do need you. And I belong to you, completely. You are perfectly aware. I have paid for my mistakes with scorching tears and unrelenting darkness, I am still haunted by the pain I caused you. I am always at fault, you will never let me forget that I wronged you. This, I take in stride, every day and every night. I hold out my pained hands to you, I put everything that I am in them, wrap it nicely and offer it to you, but the gift is so poor, so meager, you take it, put it away and never look at it again. You know it is there, you know it will always be there, but you never see it. You know I am there.

You see, when I told you the truth, I expected to move something in you. I expected you to see my actions for what they were, an act of love someone gave you because they thought you deserved it. They were pure, they came from an innocent place in my heart, free from corruption and the deceitful hands of men. They were the stupid illusions of a person who refuses to grow up, and chooses to believe that love doesn’t move mountains, but people. Instead, you took them for the treacherous actions of someone who never deserved your attention. You humiliated me by taking my offer of love and throwing it away, deeming it offensive. You, the flawed, tortured individual who keeps my heart buried in your pocket. You dared satanize the most important decision I ever made, because you are too immature to understand what feelings can do. You hurt me, yet again, and dehumanized me, turned me into a sick, delusional entity with no capacity for coherent, rational thought. I had never felt so low.

Now, you dismiss me over tantrums, fits of rage sparked by my need for your attention. You stab my heart with small needles, each tearing open a small wound that bleeds directly inside my soul. You carelessly push me away, knowing I am trapped inside your pocket and cannot get out. You throw words at me like rocks hitting my skull, cracking it open. You never turn back to look at me bleeding. You are selfish and I should hate you, but I am insane and I can only love you, which baffles you even more and escapes your comprehension. Because a person who loves cannot inhabit your cold, barren wasteland. A person so stupid cannot enter your brilliant universe.

Every time I open up to you, it is like my heart is begging you to take it and care for it. I am so, very damaged, and I need you. I am sorry my existence has cause you pain. I never meant for it. You are the reason my face can produce a smile and you are the cause for my tears. You control me. And even though my feelings for you cannot be explained with human words, I know I am alone. One day, I will be free. I will escape your prison and you will reach out to grab me but I will not be there. Then, you will understand that the truth I revealed was never an act of insanity but an act of love. And sadly, it will be late, for I will be away. My heart will be healed. The pricks, pins and needles hanging from my skin will start to fall off.

You have never loved. You cannot understand how the small sacrifice of a broken soul could fit in your rationality. You would never understand how someone so weak could endure so much hurt. You will never understand me. You don’t hear me screaming. You don’t see me squirming on the floor. You don’t see me. I am see-through. I am glass.


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