well i hoped that since we're here anyway
we could end up saying
things we've always needed to say

to you [whoever you are because i'm not sure if i know anymore, or if i ever did]:

things have changed so much over these two years. there is a part of me which died that day in mcdonalds as you went through your two green apples and she was crying, crying. it was then i knew things could never revert to their original state. the times when i could call you in a heartbeat whether it was just to ask you about homework i'd forgotten or maybe to talk about nothing at all, when i didn't worry about silences being awkward. the times when we would flock to the canteen together the minute class ended, and the main problem was - which ice cream would we buy? but things are no longer that simple, and maybe they never were. with the ice cream stall, you have disappeared from my sight. and not just metaphorically, but physically you become more invisible everyday, an empty shell of yourself which you intend to preserve.

my memories go back to that afternoon. we had a lit class, but before that we intended to talk to someone we didn't know. a stranger to us, she was, but we asked her to lunch because we concluded that cats don't make such even scratches on the wrist. i was partly concerned, and partly curious - i had never encountered such a situation before. little did i know such things would become commonplace in the months to come. so off we went to balmoral plaza, a place i will now link with memories of us. stories were shared, adolescent friendships forged and we managed to be late for our lit class. the gashes came each day, worse than the ones before and we would exchange furtive looks and frustrations would ensue. slowly though, the deep red that seemed to continually stain her skin faded away and found its place on yours.

there were so many things about you i didn't know, and so many things i thought i knew. perhaps you thought i didn't notice much, always choosing to make sarcastic remarks and say funny things so the group would feel at ease. you never let on what was going on in your life, why all you saw [and we saw] was red and soon, you'd spend time counting calories and trying to make flesh disappear.

your face looks bloodless now, and there aren't many times when you have smiled or talked to me cheerfully like you once did. and even the times when we do talk, it is to hide the slow drift between us. you kept it from me for half a year, how you would have your finger in your throat trying to make your body forget what it consumed. i slowly figured it out, and everyday became a day of realization. each time you went on your own to the washroom, each time you ate a piece of bread, i would observe and feel a tweak at my heart strings. i was so alert now, every shift meant something, every scab on your knuckles told me how things were going.

and the times when you told us you would get better, but you don't seem to be. the days go by and you look thinner, the wounds on your hands don't heal. blood on your fingers didn't scare you, so why should anything else? maybe death has no meaning to you, and neither does life. but for a while i believed. it was okay that you and her would never be the friends you once were. it was okay that you and i may never talk like we used to. it was okay that perhaps you will never be able to bring yourself to eat with us again. maybe despite all that, you would get better. you seemed to be trying.

till that day you told us you were going to start again. you didn't say it exactly, and maybe i misunderstand your words, but i sat there in quiet shock, barely believing my ears.

perhaps you will hate me, for being so honest, so unlike the placid self you think i am. there are letters i have written which you have never received, there are times when i stay up at night crying only to soberly face you again in the morning. the messages all of us have exchanged over you, sometimes bearing a white flag, sometimes determined, sometimes full of tears.

and you did ask once, 'what do you want me to do?' here is my answer, i want you to stop. i want you to start living life. i want you to question yourself and perhaps think of this logically, for once. is this what the rest of your life is going to be like? no taste, dreariness and distancing from others? what is so important about weighing close to nothing on the scale - it just makes you less of a person. but what i want, is not what you want, and ultimately, the life is yours, if you even consider it a life. if this really makes you happy, if this doesn't make you more hollow than you already are, if this gives your life meaning - then carry on by all means.

next year we may be separated, and we may never talk again, seeing as how things are right now. perhaps i will cease to worry for you, because it is not my worry; i only chose to make it mine. i wanted to worry because i cared.

just know you are worth all the once unknown tears i shed for you. you are worth my nights of heartbreak and smudged ink which you never got to read. maybe you don't know how much i love you because i have never told you, and now it is too late. but remember that you are worth everything in the world, if you would only let yourself be.

+ posted by M @ 9:45 AM