Everytime.

Everytime you say no one cares, a part of me dies away. Couldn’t you see me right beside you trying to just be there and support you? But no, I am no one. I am invisible. Yet, maybe in some twisted way, it’s better like this. Me, alone, again. Just as I’ve always been. No, not always. I keep breaking and everytime I see you, I break more. No, not because I hate you or look down on you, not because I pity you or think any less of you- I look, I break, but it is because I feel the ache of your heart in my own- yet it evermore grows heavy and dark with unforgotten sorrows, regret, hatred. I look and I cry because I love you. I care. So, if no one cares, what does that make me? Dead? Unworthy? A Burden? Am I really this useless to everyone…?

But hey, I should be used to it by now right? I’m the invisible one. I’m the ugly one who tries too hard then who doesn’t try hard enough. I am the empty tone- hollow as a cave that is engulfed in black. I’ll just seep back into the back ground, into the back drop where I won’t bother anyone, where I am left alone, unnoticed. I wanted to talk to you, to hold you and let you know that I can physically feel this never ending pain you feel. I’ve always been able to feel what you have, I don’t know why, but I thought maybe I was supposed to help me understand so I could help you. But you seem so angry, so tired. I didn’t want you to get tired of me, but it’s too late. I didn’t want to make your pain worse, but it’s too late. I just wanted to tell you that you aren’t alone, you never have been, and you never will be. People love you. I love you. But if you will be happier with out me, then I will go, even if it breaks me to dusk. Even if it causes me to drowned in my own selfloathing. If you’re happy and feel loved, not just by others, but by yourself as well, then I could live with being invisible. You can enjoy life now, because if you fill your wishes with “When I am this, then I will be happy,” then happiness is unobtainable.