Left alone
London
Jed
Julian has left. My skin is crying. My entire body’s crying tears of blood. How could he do something like this? How could he do something he knew I would suffer from? I thought at a certain point we would love each other. I thought he loved me. I’m in my bed, curled in my sheets, wet from the tears I’ve shed. Granny is knocking at the door. I won’t answer. She’s asking what’s happening. What could I answer anyway? Someone I had cherished lied to me; someone I had loved left me. Someone I thought was someone I could trust betrayed me. Julian is such a chicken. How could he eave without even speaking to me? He left my sheets cold next to me.
What is left now deep inside me is wrath; a deep and black wrath. The tears can dry as easily as love can melt. I’m blindfolded by this destructive wrath. The werewolf is howling inside me. I take my sheets and tear them. Every single object in my room makes me thing of the betrayer. I just take them and break them. I try to hurt myself destructing my life, from a vase grandma gave me when I arrived to the book Ariane brought from France to me. I can feel cold tears of blood and revenge running down my face.
I feel myself trembling from what hurts inside. This wrath and sorrow are destroying me. An auto-destructive impulse runs through my veins. I can hear Nightwish music drumming in my ears.
I wish I had an angel.
Someone taking care of me, someone protecting me and saying everything is fine.
And I hit my fists on the door and the walls, making them bleed.
I wish I had an angel.
Someone who could kiss me in the neck, and breathe softly on my shivering skin.
And I stamp on the ground, fall loosing my balance.
I wish I had an angel.
Someone who could lick my wounds, sing in my head, cuddle me while I die inside.
And I bang my head on the ground, the harder I can without loosing consciousness.
My sweat is turning into blood.
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