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I can't believe that what I feel is really happening to me Silence may not be golden at all. I am here alone and you are nowhere in sight. I need your words in my ears. This quietness you give me presses down on me. It is an invisible weight of your displeasure in my actions. I hate holding the knowledge that someone is upset with me and this game of silence you play only eats away at my soul. I was careless in the words I chose and I have lain myself at your feet in apologies for my mistake. In this moment, I do not exist to you. I cry hot tears and beg for your forgiveness. Please just yell at me and have it out so that we can put it behind us. Please just unleash your anger upon my body so that I can feel the savage sting of your words. I want to be the one to bleed so that your anger can channel its way through the nerve endings in my skin. Hurt me to show me your unhappiness with me. Tenderize my flesh so that I will remember to never anger you like this again. I am so very sorry I didn't respect your wishes. It wasn't like this at all last year. There was giving and receiving then and that is why I was confused as to why there couldn't be giving and receiving now. I hang my head in shame and kneel at your feet so as to present the back of my neck to you, bare and unprotected. This unmarked flesh is offered to you to scar. I want to be able to remember this lesson for days to come. I never want something like this to happen again. Your silence only makes things worse for me. I am eating myself away inside. I don't function when you're upset because it upsets me too. I can't, read: am physically unable, to function when the one you're upset with is me. Please don't wait too much longer to talk to me because I don't know how much more my heart can take of this acid I deliver to it. I said how sorry I was many times over and I begged for you. I even wonder if perhaps you aren't angry any longer and instead are just too busy to talk to me? That could possibly be the reason because of exams. But, somehow I doubt it since you never answered a single thing I said to you. You just go about your day without even a thought of me in your head. You sleep at night in peaceful dreams where my face no longer dwells in ecstasy. I long for you to talk to me. I need for you to talk to me. I can't have you disappointed and upset with me. I know I messed up and I know what it was I did wrong. I'm sorry a thousand times over. What will it take for you to look at me again? I weep openly my tears of depression and you step over the puddles without even so much as a glance at my pathetic reflection in the water.  Please don't ignore me, I beg of you. Please.
My one hope is that, if I give you a few days to yourself, you will turn to me once again. It was such a short while ago that you were telling me how much you enjoy talking to me. How did that change so quickly? I know I made a mistake and I know what that mistake was so why do you keep me on the end of your silence? This is not golden, but a dull brassy colour that dulls my senses and fills me with nothing but the bitter tang of my own uselessness. I was trying hard to accept myself for who I am and you were helping me to do that by reassuring me that you did enjoy my company. Now, all I can concentrate on is how I have failed you. I would crawl on my hands and knees and rest my head at your feet if only for you to tell me that you are disappointed with me and that you feel the need to punish me. At the very least, I ask of you to let me know that you are too upset to have contact with me right now. Being ignored silently does not answer my questions. Your close-lipped blindness only serves to raise the bar of my misery. Please, have it out at me. I know that I will hurt tremendously with your blows and I will wish with every fibre of my being that it wasn't happening, but it is what I need from you. I need for you to make me hurt in the way that you hurt. Show me what it was I did to you that made you feel this way. I will rest my chin on my chest, neck bared for you, in hopes that you will talk to me soon. I give you your few days and think of you more in every additional second of your silence. The more I think of how I have pained you, the more I feel I deserve to hurt. If you don't hurt me soon, I fear I may decide to hurt myself to let some of my internal turmoil out into the physical world of my own flesh. I will place the marks onto myself that you should have laid on me. I will punish myself for hurting you and, if you keep your silence even after that, I will only hurt deeper. Please let me have it. I deserve the pain. I want this to be put behind us because this burden is too heavy for my heart to carry. Your silence isn't golden; your silence is my darkened despair.  *stupid link of the day* Divine Interventions: a friend sent me this link yesterday so I had to include it. I mean, who doesn't want a dildo in the form of Satan, or a baby Jesus buttplug? JeN's mind ejaculated @ 8:05 p.m. | |   |
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