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Words Hurt, Words Kill
“Why don’t you go kill yourself?” They laugh.
“Yeah, maybe I will.” I see her disappear behind the school building.
How disgusting do you think it is? To tell someone to kill themselves?
She has discarded me now, and she doesn’t even know it.
Or does she?
Every time I look at her, I see something has gone flat in her eyes. Only I know how many pounds she has lost in the past weeks. Only I know why she cannot wear her favorite tank top anymore: she is running out of places to cut. And only I know that she is dying inside.
There are some things that only I know about her, and yet she fears me.
She doesn’t ever face me, but I still search for her in every second of my existence.
She is hurt. And she is hurt really bad. She cannot look at herself in the mirror without thinking how ugly she looks. But do you know how beautiful she really is? So innocent, that she believes you? You are the reason as to why she dreads waking up everyday and living her life. She feels hollow and futile, like a vessel filled with nothingness.
Are you aware of the damage you cause? Are you subconsciously wishing to be her? You drove her to cut into her skin, to make herself bleed to feel the pain. You make her feel worthless. It’s your taunts and nasty words that have led her to what she does, to try and escape what you're doing to her mind.
Who knew, a rumor could be the reason as to why she wears a bandage on her arms to cover up the scars she inflicted onto herself and the reason why she sits there feeling so alone and fed up. You call her 'hideous', you tell her that she's not good enough, and that can't ever be.
But do you realise that she believes you? That she believes every word of it?
Do you realise that she would come home and cry into her pillow just wanting shut everything out and go to sleep forever? She has forgotten that imperfection exists in everyone, not in just her but in the entire universe. In you.
Her smallest scratch holds hours of tears and hatred. This disease has reached her mind. And the amount of scars on her outside does not show the amount of suffering on her inside.
You call her fat, and yet at some points in her life, if she'd eaten any less, she would have died of starvation. Your words are killing her, depressing her, and pushing her deep into her shell.
She is not empty, though. She is full of life. She is full of love, compassion and inspiration.
She has not given up. For I will not let her. She is beautiful inside and out. She doesn't need to hide behind five inches of makeup and mar her beauty.
While she has to distract herself from the unstable emotions you put in her mind, she knows she will get over it. She knows, within her, that it will only make her stronger in the end. She knows you will not win. The cutting and suicide, well attempted, will soon be a thing of her past. You saw through her facade, you knew she was vulnerable.
But she laughed, so she didn't cry. She smiled, so she didn't scream. And the fidgeting, so she didn't cut. Your words pierced through her heart and crushed it.
You made her reach her lowest of lows but now she's a phoenix rising from the ashes.
She still has so much lose. She's way too young to believe that it’s not going to be okay. In the meantime, I am here. Looking out for her. And I will always be here. For I am her soul and she needs me.