If I cut, I lose him.
If I stay strong, I keep him.
He’ll keep me strong, he tried before right?
I need him.
Holding hands may seem like an innocent gesture, but they show more than a simple interlocking of fingers. Your hands are one of the most essential parts of your body: you build with them, feed with them, hold with them, touch with them, fight with them; they are the tools of the human body. To take a hold of another’s hand is to break from living individually. It is to link yourself to another being, to momentarily entwine your life with another’s, to promise, for a moment, that you need not face the world alone. More simple, more aesthetically naive than other forms of affection, i.e kissing, hugging, sexing.., the act of holding hands is often trivialized in its true implications.
I’m crying so hard that I can’t breathe. I can’t swallow any more air. My body won’t accept it. I keep choking, keep hiccuping, keep crying more. I need to stop, so I hold my breathe. 1…2…3…4 I can’t hold it any more. The tears are still coming. I need to stop, I can’t be seen like this. Too late. I can’t handle this many tears. Everything is too much.
I noticed the cuts on your arm.
Don’t do this to me.
You know what it’s done to me.
I love you, so much.
I don’t want you to end up like me.
Please.
I’m begging.
Even though your words are kind, each one feels like another slap across the face. I don’t want to listen to what you have to say to try and cheer me up. I need to be alone. I don’t want to have to listen to you trying to get me through this because it makes me feel worse seeing as I’ll never be any of what you want.
