BANG!

And, the girl watched from her husbands sleeping arms, astonished, as her father’s body hit the floor.

He spent his last moments watching her beautiful face. I love you, goodbye, he thought.

…What am I?

Who am I?

Incomplete?

Confused.

Whole?

Simply…

Happy?

Occasionally.

Always wishing, wanting more…

Impossibilities!

Do what?

Form a hard mask, keep others out.

Does anyone understand? Could they?

Him…

He tries.

Tries to make me happy.

He would die for me…

And I him,

Unless…

Unless?

If I got a wish.

An impossible one.

Would I give him away?

How could I?

But…

No

No

No

No!

To him, my eternal love,

How could I:

Think,

Consider,

Believe,

That without him I could exist.

I know, in my horrid, unbeating heart,

He is the only one left.

And he tries.

But, the hurt!

My hollow life, eternal.

I want to be fragile,

Human

So weak,

And yet…

To be like her.

She, who has everything!

Who believes I—

I, who am always lacking—

Am a goddess?

How?

How could she?

She wants this,

This hell?

To give up rest,

And, at most,

A child, the prospect.

Why?

For him?

He would stay.

He would die,

For her.

How could she?

Give up my dream,

My eternal wish?

Jealousy pumps through my venomous veins.

And me—

Me!

I am…

…What am I?

Beautiful,

Cold,

Dead?

In truth…yes.

A monster,

But not as bad as others.

A monster with family, morals…

My family,

All I have left.

And he…

He is the center of my universe,

My point of logic,

Reason,

Sanity,

Love.

The only one who could ever truly try,

To understand my actions,

My coldness,

To get through my wall.

And what is that wall for?

To keep out others.

Others, who hurt me…

Like my ghost,

The ghost of a man,

A mere human,

Who hurt me so completely,

Even he doesn’t, could never,

Realize what he did.

He stole my innocent trust.

And crushed it…

Crushed me!

Left me weak,

To be turned into a monster.

He took more than what he thought.

He took my childhood,

My innocence,

My happiness,

My life,

My child,

And my ability for kindness.

I was invaded.

And so, the wall,

It is there,

And the only one,

The only one who understands—

Or tries, at least—

Is he,

My protector,

My guide,

My sanity,

My true wall,

And,

At last,

My hope.

~Rosalie Hale

Can anyone see?

Though surrounded by people,

She is lost and confused.

So alone, feeling used.

The ones who love her,

Miles away.

Struggling through their own day.

Blending in, hiding,

What was in their past,

But how long can it last.

Will she crak?

A panic attack?

Crying, screaming, needing those people near.

With a mother who hides,

And a father…

A father who abandons his own daughter.

Loss and hurt,

Common in her life.

But who sees her strife?

Noone looks closer.

They see a nerd.

A fat kid,

A goth,

A singer.

But they can’t see.

Why won’t they try?

The have no idea how often she does cry.

She helps others, of course.

But what about her?

With her family so far away.

The pressure eats at her.

To be perfect, beautiful, smart.

Being messed up isn’t an art.

She doesn’t cry monthly, yearly, or once a week.

You’d be surprised how often a tear slides down her cheek.

She can’t deal.

So upset.

But she musnt forget the people she loves.

They care.

The only reason,

Her sanity is still there.

Your head is throbbing,

so much.

Pressure.

Aching,

Heavy,

Nonstop

Pressure.

Why?

School, freinds, family.

No help.

Others need attention.

You’re told you don’t need it.

You SCREAM.

You DO!

You say you need help.

And?

They ignore it.

Ignore you.

What do you matter?

Do they care?

It doesn’t seem like it.

You tell them you’re hurt.

They defend themselves.

But, no CHANGE!

That’s what you want.

Who cares why?

You want it to stop.

Everything to stop.

The pressure to stop.

But.

Do you want life to stop?

No.

Pressure.

Written on a wall,

Thousands of people,

I look at them all.

Sadness fills me,

From the inside out,

I look at the names of people,

That the world is now without.

All of these people died,

Defending us all,

All of these people,

Once stood so tall.

Because of one stupid war,

These people are dead,

To keep us all safe,

On the ground they bled.

They wanted peace,

We do too,

Try to be peaceful,

To be honest and true.

A war memorial,

Doesn’t just name people who fought,

It asks us for peace,

It shows the lesson we should be taught.

But why me? Why did I lose?

After everything I had to go through, why does it not stop?

The grief overpowers me.

Am I really expected to be this strong? How?

I can’t just grin and bear it forever.

It rips me apart from the inside out.

All of the wounds can’t heal, each ripped open again and again.

Give me space.

Let me heal.

I get new wounds every day, as the ridicule comes at me from all sides.

Why is my only safety at the building all kids hate?

What teenager looks forward to school?

Why am I the one to desperately cling to books, meaningless words, as my only source of life?

Trying to live another’s life.

Where I know what happens—I know the pain ends.

Will it ever end?

Can I ever call myself normal?

Will I ever be a kid, with no worries?

I never had that.

I wonder sometimes, what it’s like.

It seems blissful—no hurtful words, no games or lies.

Being grounded seems trivial.

This longing for my lost childhood only rips open my wounds again.

How many do I have, I wonder.

Thousands at least.

Enough to make me bleed inside.

Why do so many people not value what they have?

And I, who have lost, why didn’t I take advantage of it while I could?

You can only truly miss what you’ve seen but can’t have.

And change.

Change.

Such an ugly word.

That word is the blame, the cause of my nearly unbearable pain.

It seems as if change only shows up for the worst.

And, what I’ve lost.

A dad,

Comfort,

The feeling of home,

Love,

A childhood,

Interest,

Perseverance,

Will,

Strength,

Hope.

To hope for positive change, I’ve learned, is a lost cause.

And, when I try.

Truly, I do.

I am only ripped open again.

A new or old slash in my heart.

And, I fall right back to the bottom.

What’s the use trying to get up, when you’re just pushed right back down?

Why try to be a better person when no one notices?

When they yell at you for everything you do wrong, it’s hard to try to do right.

The blood pounds through my head as I try desperately to make sense of the pain.

I wonder, is physical pain really the worst?

When, being ripped open by seemingly meaningless words can last forever.

Memories never truly fade.

The memories of before still run through my head.

Taunting me.

Here’s what you’re missing.

And, again. The wounds are opened to bleed.

Every day, I try to leave my world for a minute, and enter another through a story.

Be someone else for a while. Leave my problems behind and daydream about what could have been.

And then the pain starts again.

Being stabbed every day hurts.

It makes me bleed.

But, no one can see.

It’s hidden.

And no one knows what makes me bleed inside.

Because no one cares to ask.

No one understands when to ask, how to ask.

So, I’m left behind.

Called meaningless names, told what’s wrong with me.

But, what do they know?

Nothing.

So, really, I’m alone.

Empty and truly alone.

Surrounded by people, totally alone.

And, no one knows what makes me bleed inside.

They try desperately to diagnose my pain.

How? Have they felt this excruciating hurt before?

No.

So they shouldn’t tell me how to deal.

And no one knows what makes me bleed inside.

I want to talk, but will they listen?

And no one knows the true ripped up remains of my heart.

For no one knows what makes me bleed inside.

Could you ever,

Yes, I could

But, no I could never

Hurt someone?

Desert someone?

Help someone?

For what?

Nothing is worth it

What if you deserve it?

No, never

Maybe, It depends.

Could I?

Should I?

Yes.                                                                                                                                                             No.

What if?

No chance

If it was a small thing?

It doesn’t matter.

If it didn’t really matter, in the long run

But, everything does.

Does it?

Always.

What if, it was a simple lie?

Lying is wrong.

Is it, if it is never found?

Yes.

Or no. What if you could do anything without getting caught?

I couldn’t

But there are no consequences.

Guilt is always there.

I could handle it.                                                                                          Never would I forgive myself.

If there were no consequences…

Could I?

Would I?

Yes, surely.                                                                                                                            No, impossible.

What if?

If you could get power by crushing others…

Would you?

Could you?

Power sounds nice.

To hurt others is wrong.

Is it, if you and others merit, in the long run?

No, I could never.

Think about it.

What if?

One uncaught lie could help you?

While hurting others? No.

But, what about you?

Me?

I am everything.                                                                                                                      I am nothing.

To others.

Would I?

Could I?

What if?