It’s
gleaming, absolutely gleaming. I’m enthralled to its shape; the exact same way
I was enthralled to yours. In my subconscious, I’m screaming at myself to stop.
This will be an occasion of self-defacement, just like you. But I’m not me
anymore; I haven’t been for a long time. The soul I formerly owned departed
this life a time ago, and left a body that subsists solely to implement each
calendar day. It’s enough to humor people though. So, I grasp for the
immaculate sheet. Not the sheet that at present adorns the divan I, on many
occasions, shared with you, on the contrary the thin sheet that will abet my
blood to stain it. This sheet is metallic, and diminutive enough to engulf in
my currently trembling palm.
My
proceedings no longer managed by me. I, in truth, barely am existent in mind. I've lost me, and often confuse myself with characters and dialect used in the 1800's. I know I'm crazy, and that I'm going to hurt myself. I know.Yet, naught that I do right now will ever injure me to the entirety you did.
You know, if you sincerely were apprehensive about me, you would have
envisioned this impending. Everyone would have. I haven’t been right for a while; I’ve been fading since forever.
The disdain sent not in terminology, but gapes. Each taunt was a gouge to my
torso. Yes, several did convey themselves verbally. Secretly, they all were
judging. They were thinking those vulgar words, with minimally one or two
syllables.
They
didn’t have relevance to me however. You appeared, and revivified me from them,
all of them. You were my best friend, and my lover. I committed to you. You
came inside of me (I mean that in all sophistry). But you were the individual
that pained me most of all. You turned out to be like them. You’d literally smack
me back into my disastrous reality. By that phase, I was hooked on you. I was
addicted to you like those drugs, I’d habitually tried to overdose on, but that
on no account turned out as expected.
I became dependant on that single minute of
climactic bliss. That frame in time, where you’d arch your back. Beads of sweat
would glisten on your forehead, and you send me into complete ecstasy; it’s the
only time I felt alive. My lips would quiver, whispering loud enough for you to
take notice of, as I’d pledge my entire essence to you…
“I
love you Justin...”
Oh
God, this blade is icy. If you concentrate hard enough, you can virtually hear
the skin rupture. Incision goes up, not across. My adrenaline is hastening,
just like when you force me over the edge. Even when I was in seventh heaven
with you, I was always preparing for the torment that would disembark soon subsequently.
“What
the fuck are you doing? Get the hell off of me slut! Fag…”
You
hate me. I have the contusions to verify it. The most recent are from the
episode we had an hour ago tonight. They all happen practically the same way.
You’re like this is all the time, now. Of course, you never abuse me in public.
No, that wouldn’t be virtuous of the group. It’s remorseful enough that I feel akin
to a whore to the world; doing whatsoever they covet me to. But nevertheless,
each night you draw closer to me, and once you relinquish my hotel room, I sit
with my head in my hands, and I sob. I’ll promise myself, “This was the last
time; it’ll be different tomorrow.”
Then the following day, it transpires an additional time.
But
tonight, I made myself a vow, and I’m going to comply with it; even if it…kills
me. This is the final time. I’m hemorrhaging for you now Justin. I’m done
putting on that joyful face. I refuse to display that facade any longer. So,
instead I sit here cringing on the bathroom floor; that once gleaming metal,
now suspended in a pool of my valueless blood.
My eyes and cheeks are stinging from the tears sliding sideways on my
face, and falling to the tile floor. By the time anyone attempts to locate me, I’ll
be on my one-way expedition to hell.
You
ought to have known Justin. Had you looked at me lately? I was nothing but a
mere skeleton, and my skin was ashen and sickly. No, you never perceived me. I cherished
you, and you emphatically used me as your own special fuck toy. Then you’d feign
that nothing had happened, and would get on with taunting like the other three
guys. Well, I can’t evade being what I am, but this earth obviously doesn’t want
me.
Did Britney know you were fucking me too,
Justin? All those times when she’s caught you dishonorable with extra ‘girls’;
She would be irate if she comprehended. Her eyes would in all probability turn crimson;
as red as the solution running from my gaping lesions. I wonder if you can discern
my company with you now Justin, I wonder. Don’t fret; I left an amusing minor memorandum
for you guys. Hopefully, it’s effective enough to figuratively pang you, like
the ridges of the razor has just done to my wrists. The incisions don’t ache to
any further extent; I can’t feel anything at all.
I
had to cease it Justin. I couldn’t go on being gay, being discarded, and at the
mercy of you. You were you stronger than any drug for me. You were the high I
couldn’t be lacking. I had to eradicate that compulsion. Now as my being comes
to a conclusion, I rotate onto my back to glare at the ceiling. You could have
prevented this Justin, if only you had even just a single time whispered:
“Lance…I
love you too.”
