The wound

You are scared I think. Anybody would be. To a layman, a complicated person like me normally appears to be crazy. But then you are a psychology graduate. You should understand, you are supposed to understand - I'm just complicated, due to a fucked-up life. I may talk rough, and maybe even behave oddly at times, but I care for you. Can't you see I've never caused you any harm, can't you understand I never will? I'll leave you the moment I feel I may do anything that could cause the slightest harm to you.

I told you about the wound today, hoping that you will then be able to understand why I behave like I do. And that our friendship could be, as it once was. But you've chosen to go away. I can feel it. Even though you say that you intend to stay. Do you realise you're taking a piece of my heart with you? Or are you trampling it under your foot? Are you doing this intentionally? No, its not possible - you can't do this to me.

It is disheartening that things turned out this way. You were healing the wound that has existed for years now. You just didn't know it. With time I had gotten used to the wound. My smile had become impenetrable, giving no one any kind of access to my heart. Then I told you. That you didn't know how important you, and our friendship, are for me, just felt wrong.

And when you came to know, you chose to leave. The wound is open again. It isn't even dressed. It is hurting more than it ever has. I'm not sure whether I'll survive. All that I wanted from you was to just be there. By my side. No need to say anything or do anything, but just give me the feeling that you are with me, that you care for me.

But you chose not to. This time it feels like it never has before. I feel weak and beaten. Chances are the wound will win this time and life will give up. Even if I manage to survive, to stay alive, the damages maybe just too much, any chance of a normal life seems impossible.