The words fall from her lips and lie before me on the floor, they tell me over and over again that I am a selfish person and don’t deserve the life I live. She turns her face away from me like it hurts her to look upon me; I hold back the tears that are sure to choke my eyes if I don’t closely guard my thoughts. My tears would mean nothing to her and so are not worth my time, they can be discarded like the perfectly formed leaves on autumn trees. She’s growing colder now and I feel myself reaching for that fading warmth, I know I won’t be complete again until it returns; but how can I ask for what is not freely given? I don’t want to appear ungrateful—her coldness is more than nothing.
Alone, she says, we are all alone; at first I don’t believe her words, it is such a leap of faith to believe what has not been experienced, but I understand now and I wish I didn’t. To feel so alone in a crowded room, drowning in nameless faces—they all mean nothing to me, but I can’t bear to hurt them, not a single one.
She’s laughing at me now, I am not an individual, I am not unique, I don’t stand out. And for some unknown reason she finds my despair amusing—she catches my eye, smiles, looks away. I know there is only one person she takes notice of and it’s certainly not me but she can’t decide whether to confide in me or to keep her words to herself, wrapped up inside, haunting her thoughts, threatening to explode up and out into this real world.
There is always someone that keeps us anchored to this life, however unimportant they may seem.
This time I laugh at her, she is so naive, she doesn't understand what it means to feel.
This is all a foreign concept to her and she is drowning, throwing her arms in the air, she fights for breath but I will save her; I save them all in the end.
