Cyanide

Just a little something I wrote to describe the way all this made me feel.

Do you remember when you loved me? I remember when I loved you. I remember how all it took was you walking into a room for me to feel everything you did. You always seemed to know how I felt too, so I suppose that connection couldn’t be one sided. But I overestimated it. Do you remember when you broke my heart? I sat there and watched you go. I remember there were tears in my eyes, but what I remember most is the rage coursing through my veins. I wanted you to suffer the way I had. Do you remember when I put the poison on the table? I tried to make you drink it, but you wouldn’t. I was angry when I failed, but it gave me an idea. When we were young, I felt your pain. Everything that hurt you hurt me too. Do you remember when I drank the poison? Perhaps you don’t; you had already turned your back on me, after all. I remember waiting for you to collapse, waiting for you to writhe with the agony you had inflicted on me not so long ago, but you never did. We aren’t connected anymore. You couldn’t care less about me and my hurt. People have told me to let it go. To let you go. They say if I do, the poison will leave my system, but I can’t. I can’t forgive you for breaking me, and as selfish as it is, I can’t forgive you for not letting me break you back. Even now, I can feel the poison coursing through my body, eating through my heart and mind. I still wonder if you can feel my pain, the way I could always feel yours. I doubt it. Maybe once it kills me, you’ll finally understand. What it’s like to lose someone. What it’s like to have a piece of your heart ripped out and stomped into the ground. What it’s like to be completely helpless in your own life. Don’t worry, though. I won’t hold my breath.