Dear Someone [2012 Edition]

Dear Someone | One | 22 May 2011

So I'm starting this 'Dear Someone' project as I've 'broadcasted' (tehe, whatever) and I thought I'd post a few of mine. This was just the first one I ever wrote, and I didn't have the project in mind then, but I guess this lead me to wanting to make the film.

  I know how I feel a lot of the time, and it's this aching loneliness, which is kinda sad, right? And a while after I wrote this I found I'd sometimes written on random pieces of paper which I found around my room how I felt, and a lot of them were addressed; "Dear Someone" and that's what made me think that it was probably easier telling someone you don't know how you truly feel. This one is all about being 'One'.. I hope you .. blah. It's depressing as cheese, you won't enjoy it, but maybe it'll give you an idea anyway.

One | Dear Someone | 22 May 2011

Dear Someone;

Hi. You don’t know me. And I don’t know you. That’s what I love about this… thing so much. 

Strangely enough, you’re a stranger. The only someone I know who I can talk to. Everyone where I look; no one. As if everyone fled and forgot to tell me where to go. When to meet them. 

I don’t care though. 

Yeah. 

I used to think darkness was a phase; that light would always follow and, for a while, things could be light again. And when darkness returned I’d still know I’d need shades for my future; it was that bright. I’m not so sure anymore. The darkness has lasted so long. 

Maybe now that everyone is gone the sun feels it  is a waste of time rising for one one. Because that’s all I am and will ever be; one in six billion. Insignificance doesn’t have a better description than that. 

One. 

I hate that number. I long for two. I long for three. Four would be amazing. Anything but one. One leads to an achingly lonely insanity; an asylum to die for- or die in. Either way, I’m on my own. On my way in.

Are you on your own? Someone out there, do you long for company too? Or maybe you’re fine on your own as I pretend to be. Do you ignore the tears that fall down your cheeks and fight to move forward when your vision is blurry? Do you cry until your voice is hoarse, every single night, waiting for everyone –anyone- to hear you? But no one does; they have better things to do. So… Silence. 

Then I start. And when I start it’s hard to stop.

You want to know what it is, don’t you? Some, more than just one, call it self-mutilation. 

But, you know what? I hate that word. It sounds brash, angry; I’m not angry. I’m just numb. I’ve forgotten what it’s like to feel. I only need a reminder. 

Yeah. 

And then the cuts are never alone. I never leave one wound by itself –that one would be as lonely as I am; I slash, and cut, and scrape so they’re not alone. And then my body tingles and fresh tears are produced –and I feel every single drop, the cold salty drops as they touch my lips. Never just one drop.

And I’m happy again. I can smile again. Through the tears and as the red drops, I can smile. I can live another day knowing ‘This One is alive. This One can smile’ –if only for a little while. If only until the sun comes up, just one last time.

--You may post in the comments your own little 'Dear Someone"'s if you don't want to email me a video :)