girl-aflame's Diaryland Diary

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Message In A Bottle

To the man that it concerns:

I don't want to break our fast, for it seems each time I do, it only results in gorging on rotted meat until we are doubled over, puking up fresh blood and old dreams, losing things we can never regain.

I don't want that. I never did.

I just don't understand how you can squeeze your hands around my throat that so lately squeezed my waist, and watch as my eyes turn blue and my tongue swells, watch the air leave me in violent release, and smile as you do.

But then, I'm looking into a mirror, aren't I? I know that the things I've said and the things I haven't said have done the same to you.

Do you really hate me? It's a cold blade that enters my belly tonight.

We never really understood each other, and now our blindness reaches its greatest height. You say you have read these words, but I read them too and I see that you must have overlooked all the many times that I wrote of my love for you. If only I could make you see that my grief is sleeping, that it rouses its head and opens its eyes now and then, hovering between slumber and sorrow... it comes slow, it comes in stages.

And they love us very much. We love them very much. Our bonds to them may be much more pure than our bonds to each other. But our bond was through pain... and pain can be as sticky of a glue as love, sometimes.

I regret our coldness for each other so much. But how can I take it back without betraying someone I have made a promise to now? And how can I take it back without you seeing it as an opportunity to grind my face into dirt again? You want the upper hand, you keep looking for a way to get it.

*sighs heavily* If only it could have been a softer landing, if only it had not been such a far fall.

I'm sorry for your pain and I'm sorry for the anger. If you ever see this, maybe you will accept my apology.

12:59 a.m. - Friday, May. 11, 2007

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