Heartsong.

I remember the long cold winter days I would spend drenched in your memory….

Newly fallen ice lain outside my living room window, as the alarm clock in my bed room, resting on my dresser, played it’s daily tune, I struggled to open up my eyes, the lack of sleep I had gotten the night before, catching up to me, made this task fairly difficult. The sun, breaking through my white translucent drapes, resting it’s rays in abstract rectangles on the floor, Lit my way to the bathroom.

The air hung heavily with the smell of menthal lipgloss, and an on coming cold. Stumbling into the bathroom, and preparing myself to step on the cold lenollium, My eyes finally adjusted to the lights produced in the almost deathly cold morning.

As I stepped onto the lenollium, I felt the cold from the floor shoot up my legs stopping at my knees, giving me an instant cold chill. After my body’s violent convulsion, I went through my daily morning routine; Dreading it in my mind, I would look into the mirrored cabinets in front of me, and just stare.

Most days I would see myself, as I had every winter before that. Ah, but this winter was different. Now, staring back at me, was a ghostly figure, one I had never seen before in my life. The girl before me had almost paper white skin, so delicate, it looked almost as, if you touched her, she would break in half. Her eyes, which pained me the most, were traced with smeared mascara, and eyeliner that had slowly crept down into the bags of her eyes. Her lips cracked, and distorted. Almost taken aback, as if I was in disbelief, I would just stare into her eyes, and ultimately get lost in their longing. Her hurt, I soon realized, after leaving the land of ‘Half Dreaming/Half Awake,’ Was my very own.

After slowly gaining my composure, I would walk into my bed room. The feeling of the warm carpet, almost comforting to my feet. Stepping over the many objects that made it nearly impossible to make out the color of my carpet, I made my way to the alarm clock, that had, for all of this time, been chiming, seeming almost to get louder with every minute left unattended to.

Getting dressed was no challenge for me back then. I had no cares in the world, for, I didnt care if people made snickering remarks at my clothing, I was in far worse pain then they could have ever imagined. I played up to their likings a bit, I must admit. I put on make-up, and wore expensive, but non-revealing clothes. Long hoodies to cover my arms, so badly sliced up, If I hadnt have been the one to cause them, would have thought A cat had gotten ahold of them, and thought them to be a scratching post.

Waiting for the yellow bus, the ride, to what I now referred to as Hell, was always a nerve-racking time. Pallid thoughts racing through my head, “What if today she finally returns, And you look like crap? She will see you and turn the other way… Oh, who are you kidding, she hates you, get over it.”

The cold outside air, and warm outside air, would eventually meet, and cause a dense condensation on my glass screen door, always distracting my attention away from my terrifying thoughts, so that I would have to consciously remind myself to open the door, and listen for the Bus’ familliar screeching.

After what seemed like eternity, I would hear the ghastly sound, and run, through the chilling air to the end of my yard.

School was never easy for me, Not after you left. I could never stay focused. I tried my best to keep it all Happy, so no one could even detect anything, I think I fooled them all. I never heard a single complaint… Never.

I would sit in class, joking and laughing with all of my friends, never once letting them see me down. Every time the intercom came on, I prayed, with every ounce of faith left in me, it would be someone calling for me… And everytime it was someone for me.. It was never you.

Coming home was the worst. Being happy all day, FAKING IT, had it’s repercussions. Walking back into this house, still smelling the menthal, only now mixed with some sort of strange aroma of some new dish, someone in my house was trying to make, rather than the onset of a cold, turned my stomach sour. Food being a waste of time to me. I felt I had to spend every minute trying to think of some elaborate scheme to get you back into my arms.

I never succeeded. I remember the lonely nights. After fighting with my mother, and her boyfriend at the time, I would be exhausted, tears pouring from my eyes, like water coming out of a faucet. I could take no more. Your face haunted me then, (and still on occasion does) and the only thing I could think about was making the “shit” stop.

I’d get on my computer. Pour my heart out to my “friends,” not one of them truly understanding they just couldnt help me… (Except One, but thats a different tale, and in due time, you will know that story as well) After talking to friends who promised they loved me, .. I would lose it. Why is it that THEY loved me, but you couldnt? WHY, WHY, WHY?!? I never understood, And I had to make it stop..

Usually finding things to cause the pain, was a blur, but I remember one night in particular, I tore apart a shaving razor, cutting my gums several times, I was hell bent on stopping you from ruining my mind.

I remember how much relief I felt after the blade had taken its toll, as always taking my mind off of you for a while. An adrenaline rush would pass through me, and I would just feel some comfort in knowing, I was being punished for what I had done to ‘Us’. (As if your blatant ignorance and your distant and BITCHY behavior towards me, wasnt enough.)

I would cry myself to sleep, wondering why I couldnt be who you wanted, why I couldnt be what everyone else wanted, WHY I had to fake everything… why I couldn’t just pour my heart out to, and have you GENUINELY give a shit.

.. Those days, have, just like you, packed up and left. Hopefully to never return.

When i see the pictures of you, I remember how you always smelled of Strawberries, and Orchid Blossoms. How you would always get that flushed look of relief everytime you saw me nearing… How, at one time, I know I meant the world to you.

Your name will be forever etched into my heart.

Heartsong.

Melanie Armstrong

Joined January 2008

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