J

The thing about me, is that my words are deadly, and you don’t even know it. I can spill you out on a page, reveal your secrets with the push of a letter and there’s nothing you can do about it. I have the ability to make, or break you with the words projected from my very own mind. I won’t, I’m not silly, those thoughts won’t be wasted on pointless creativeness, those thoughts are sought for a novel.

Instead, whilst I’m sat in this dark room, songs bellowing into my ear inspiring me to tap these keys with a dimmed down light, creates a scenario for me, and I realise, nobody knows who I am talking about. You don’t know who I am, or my inspiration. Well, I am E, and this is for you, J. The boy who haunted my heart and left it shattered and empty.

I was the quiet girl. You wouldn’t see me out, but you’d hear about me. You’d hear stories almost as creative as the pieces I write. I would cry in silence and laugh mutedly. I would scream under water and silence a crowd with a stare. Then I turned into me, now. I laugh as loud as a crowd, I cry as deep as I screamed below water, and yet I still silence a crowd with a stare. Because that stare, is now brought to you with deadly eyes, haunted from the touch of you, J.

You play a game of tag with hearts, and when the game is over, you flee. And I was unknowingly part of that game. The silent girl turned loud and ugly, on the inside. I ran around not being able to tag you, yet nobody else was quite enough to enter my side of the team.

So, let’s talk about teams. There’s always two. I loved, I loved too deeply that even I couldn’t divulge onto my screen anymore, yet you, you never loved at all. What a sad state of affairs. At first, I felt loveless, now, I feel sorry, sorry that you never felt the feeling of love, it’s beautiful J, the concept is flawless and magnetising and you never got to feel me in that way, I’m sorry. Because your team was the only team playing, because it was just you, and it’s always just you. Me before you? Unheard of, it was always you before me, anyone.

You’d do these things that I thought were admirable, weird, it was you. Until this sense of me realised it wasn’t you at all. You told me I thought too deeply, but I thought just right – you’re warped and self-destructing right in front of my very own window, a sad state of mind that couldn’t be controlled by the flash of love.

You’ll sort your being out one day, but when you do, god you better know I’ll be loving harder, better and deeper than ever before. So long J, but remember, I hold the novel to all your darkness.