The letters to nobody that someone won't read

lilmissprincess

I’m in love with you, really, I guess if we’re going to get into reality. It hurts that you don’t see me in the same way. To you I am your friend and nothing else. Futile attempts for your affection half-kill me. It’s not your fault; I’ve never tried to tell you this stuff. You don’t know I feel this way. But it does hurt. Maybe I should just say goodbye. Maybe I should just fade away from your life, until you forget me and on seeing my name wonder where you remember it from, then push it away without caring. Maybe I should. For my sanity. For the real me. I can’t get you to love me; I can’t make you or force you to see me in the way I want you to. It’s like I’m invisible to you, but I’m not because you know I’m there. I am the friend. The person you laugh with, hang out with occasionally, whatever. Its now that there is nothing I would prefer more than for you to put your arms around me and hold me close to you and tell me you know. I may be a slave to your affection, and I know it isn’t meant to be this way. I’m not meant to be the girl who you jokingly flirt with sometimes, the girl who views you as so much more than a friend but doubts you know. I doubt you know what this is doing to me. If you do, you must be a sadist, because this hurts me so much. I’m…not angry. I’m just not here. I’m empty. I talk to friends and I get hyper and then we go our separate ways and I’m back to square one, feeling empty, the days leave no mark on me. I feel absolutely nothing, and I don’t know why I feel so empty, so I can’t fix it. I try to fill the gap; I try so hard, to fill the ever-expanding hole inside me, to make me feel half-ways normal again. But nothing is working. Nothing is filling this gap and I know its wrong to place all my hopes on you. Because what if I’m wrong? What if something DID happen there, and it wasn’t that at all? If I lost you after that the gap would get much bigger, and it wouldn’t be possible to repair the second hole. It’d kill me (yes, there goes the emo-ness again). You’re my friend, my confidante, the person who makes me smile. I’m probably kidding myself but I don’t care, because somehow talking to you takes away some of the empty. You make me feel like maybe I can be the real me at some point. The “real me” attempts to come out to you. The words aren’t certain and refuse to come out, which makes me feel really bad, because there is stuff I NEED to tell you. I just can’t and you have no idea what the hell is going on inside my head, and YOU THINK YOU DO. You just don’t. And it’s the thought of what would happen if you did that stops me, probably, because I’ve been hurt before. I’ve been hurt so badly before, that it stops me from showing too much. Past experience stops me from talking (I bet you’re thinking that it’s a miracle, because I never do). It makes me want to lock myself away, because then I couldn’t get hurt by anyone. Just me and my memories, and it wouldn’t be further wounds to the soul, it would just be reliving what had happened and in time that would go away. I relish the thought of fading away out of life completely, into the non-existence of society. I don’t want to die, I just want to be invisible, to watch fro the background where participation isn’t necessary. I just want to watch though a window where I can pull the blind down when I’ve had enough. Maybe that’s the answer, maybe it is. People leave me feeling empty, so I should empty myself from their lives. The real me hides away. I now see that it has a point. You see everything to do with me, but yet you see nothing, unless you can read my mind. I tell you details but they aren’t the full story, you only see the black and white image while life is in full Technicolor. You don’t see my world. You don’t see that in their world I am a perfect stranger. You don’t see that no matter how many attempts I make, I can’t edit the fact that I am a perfect stranger in everyone else’s world. Why was I put here? I’m different from everyone else, and yes I know the whole “everyone is different, everyone is unique” spiel but oh come on. Everyone conforms so that they can fit and no matter how much I try, I can’t do it. I can’t conform to what the rest of them can. Even when I do conform, I’m still the outcast so it makes no difference. I’m me.

gbh

That's good lilmiss..

I also think it would make a good monologue in a play or a novel or short story...either the charachter talking to the other charachter or to themselves...you should be looking at mastering dialogue and monologue, all writers should as it makes for good writing, good drama and tension and basically monologue and dialogue is a charachter's thought process revealed.