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Pen Your Pride

A Note for the Girl I loved

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When you finally break, you get the oddest feeling. 

First, before you are actually broken, something sets you off. You feels sad, and scared and weak. And you end up in tears because you are afraid and weak, and that makes you sad. 

Then, somewhere in the crying, your brain stops thinking about whatever it was that set you off, and how miserable it made you feel, and it starts taking you back, to all the other things that you are ashamed about, the way people were, things you did, all the things that you have done wrong, all those times your mind blames you or all the things wrong about you. Its always you. 

But you go back farther. back to before you did things wrong, before you watch your every step, before you based you every move and word based on what you were supposed to do. And if you're me, then you see a girl you once knew. She was beautiful, and very strong. She ran around wherever she went, and always grinned like a maniac. She was kind of loud and rude and she always said whatever she was thinking, no matter if it was nice or mean. She had opinions on weird topics, and if someone said something different, well, she also liked debating things. She liked few things, but the ones she did she liked with a passion. If ever anyone ever said anything against them, she would snarl and beat an apology out of them. She had few friends, but she still acted the exact same way with them as anyone else. She also loved teasing them. She always knew just the thing to say to annoy them, but it somehow always made them laugh. She had a philosophy about the nature of humans, and the nature of life, and she stuck by it. She loved getting into fights, even though most of the time she lost. The fights were the best moments of her day. She would lean back, look at the challenger, and as the shadow seemed to grow around her, she would give them a smile, one so evil and malicious anyone else would run for the hills. Then she attacked. She whirled and dodged, kicked and scratched, and all the while she laughed. It was a laugh that made the hair on your spine crawl, a never ending low pitched giggle, accompanied by feral eyes. 

And remembering all those things about the girl you once knew,  that is when you cry the hardest, when it hurts the most. Because she died. She died so long ago you forgot when, you forgot where and how, all that you know is that you loved her. Now all that remains is a pain in your chest where she used to be, an ache that feels like the blood has been removed from your veins, and all that remains is cold air. All you can feel is loss, the kind than covers everything you see, that coats your tears, that sinks into the dept of your soul. Because she is dead. You are all that remains. You are scared to walk into a building, afraid to talk to those above you, every waking moment devoted to doing what you are expected to do, and punishing yourself when you do not. You are a shell of what she was, and sitting on the floor crying into your knees, realizing that is what hurts the most. 

Because you hate this. You hate the way you act, the way you run your life, because in doing that you killed her, the one you love the most. And you see now that its too late, you can't bring her back, because all the people around you have already forgotten that she ever existed. When you try to mention her, they asked what you were talking about. You yelled her name, and no one heard you. It hurt too much to try, so eventually you stopped. You let them forget about her, letting her memory drift apart and be crushed, stampeded under tennis shoes. 

And it hurts. It hurts like nothing you have ever felt before. Sitting crying into your knees remembering her, how you loved her, how you killed her, and how you let her fade to dust. You can't think. Your body is too weighted to move. Your eyes have been sealed shut from the weight of your tears. It hurts. Your guilt. Your loss. Your actions. Your memory. Her memory. It hurts too much. 

And then suddenly

You don't feel anything at all. 

There is no pain. There is nothing at all. Being broken is an amazing feeling, as though every thing is ok. There's nothing to think about, nothing to worry about. You've given up. Nothing matters. Nothing has any meaning to you at all anymore. You arn't the one who is crying, because you feel no pain at all. But tears still keep falling down your face, and somewhere deep deep down someone is screaming. But you can no longer hear it. 

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