We All Need Saving

Hell

Hell. That's what the last 4 months have been. Absolute hell. And you think it's cool and you think it's fine I'm fine cause that's what I told you, and for a couple weeks i was, but now I'm not. And I'm using you instead of him cause well this is to you mostly about you. And. I. Hate. It.

For the first few weeks after it, I let our friends see how upset i was about it, and then I started "the act." You know this of course but I got worse as you walked further away without even a glance back. When it happened, you left me shattered on the floor, screaming and crying, while you turned and walked away from us. I asked for it to happen in person cause I knew it wouldn't hurt as much in the long run, but you took the easy way out and left, unscathed, unaffected, perfectly fine.

April 4th I relapsed and it got worse and worse for 2 months until I couldn't go 24 hours without slicing open my skin, deeper each time and wondering how long i would slowly kill myself until I gave up and actually did.

You know all this. You claim to know all the feelings I put in here, but you don't. No one does really. No one knows the torment and hell I go through everyday. No one knows that when I'm quiet or staring into space, I'm not unfocused I'm battling my mind I'm battling the voice in my head I'm trying to turn my thoughts away from you but you always flood my head.

I went to camp(that part coming soon) and I got over you. Or so I thought.
For about 2 weeks after camp, I was trusting God, I was at peace with everything, I was over you, and I was, dare I say it, happy. Honestly, I don't know how or why it happened. You were ignoring me, I read your newest writing about her, and suddenly I wasn't okay. The tears started flowing before I could stop them and I sat there, staring at nothing holding the giraffe you gave me reaching for that necklace, painfully realizing that I don't wear it anymore and for the first time in almost a month I feel physically sick without it.

I was so sure that I was over you, but I'm not. I still love you. I'm still in love with you. I sleep with a pocket knife under my pillow and I end up crying myself to sleep most nights now. I'll probably have your name as a scar on my leg someday. You happy? I constantly think about you but it seems like I never even cross your mind. I read what you wrote in the back of my journal a million times wondering what else it's gonna say. I need you. I miss you. I miss us.

*next part written on August 4*

It's crazy how my thoughts can change about you. You texted me about a week ago and the biggest smile came on my face. It was a short conversation but I didn't care.

Honestly I know I said this next part was written on August 4 but it's not really. It's been almost 5 months since we broke up. Band camp ended yesterday and hanging out with you these past two weeks have reminded and reconfirmed that it's you. It's always you. Kennywood was great cause I spent it with you. The paratroopers were great and so were our conversations. The thing you told me, well it's the same for me. I stupidly answered I'm honored when I should have said it's the same for me.

I'll be honest I don't know what I'm doing. I'm with someone else now but I'm sure you know that. I don't know if I actually like him though. I don't think I do...
I still love you. I'm still in love with you. What about you?