I’m still talking to you. Everyone around me is telling me not to; everything inside me is telling me not to.
I learned at church this weekend that there is a force inside an atom’s nucleus that holds the nucleus together. It’s called the Strong Force. See, protons should repel protons. The atom should split apart, but it doesn’t, and nobody knows why.
There are two forces inside me, both pushing me in different directions. The first being the hope that you and I will get together again, and the second being the fear that you will destroy me like the others have.
I tried remaining friends with the person before you, and I ended up having to chain my hands behind my back to keep them from ripping out my heart and feeding it to the demons which have surrounded me my entire life. She was spiraling into the Hole, reaching out as she spun out, clawing at me and tearing me to shreds.
So, I left her.
I care deeply about you; I still love you just as much as I did when I first felt it. So, when I tell you that I am here for you, I mean it. I know the things your brain is telling you, and I know how much you hate yourself, and I know how isolated you feel.
Last night, my heart shattered into twelve pieces for you when I heard you crying. It was the first time I had ever heard that sound come from your body, and it made me want to step into the nonphysical realm and kill whatever it was that you were holding onto.
As your ex-girlfriend who is still in love with you, I wished so badly that you would let me drive to your house and comfort you as you fell asleep. But, instead, I read to you, and after a while, you told me I could stop, and I listened to you for two hours to make sure you weren’t alone. I didn’t do it because I wanted you to love me again; I did it because I wanted to love you again.
I woke up, taking your panic on my shoulders. For, every time I remind you that you aren’t alone, I am reminded that I soon may be.