Her hurt wouldn’t bleed…

Please help me. That is all she needed to say. That is all everyone should have heard. That is what we should have seen. How could we? She was the most jovial of all. She was the one that always smiled. Everyone knew her teeth. That is where the focus refused to leave. Oh and they were beautiful teeth I tell you.

Who would have known she was fighting demons of her own while being such an angel for everyone else? Did she forget to take care of herself? Did she take so special care of everyone else that she hoped someone somehow somewhere would do the same for her? Who knew that so much light might have been born from a deep past darkness?

How she wrote about love. How her eyes shone every time she talked to lovers. She seemed to possess a kind of love unique at its best. At least that is what the world saw. Nobody ever saw the object of the love who may have loved her so right for her to have wanted for everyone to be loved that right. She was a good person in the literal sense of the word. She had been there for everyone in her lifetime; everyone was there for her when her lifeless body was lowered six feet under.

Her house was filled when all her friend came to clean the blood off the floor and pack her stuff to take home to her mother. She decided to go away, to a place she hoped she would find peace. She had sat there and silently watched and felt life slip away. Or so we imagined. There, on her face had seemed what appeared to be a smile. How badly she must have wanted out of her struggles to not want to hold on a day longer, we will never know.

Her last entry had been

Dear Diary, I don’t know what to do.

I have tried to be the woman society expects but I have failed. I have tried to be normal but I have failed. I have tried to love. All this I have done in abundance. You of all know I have. What would I do without you?  I wish you were human. I wish you would speak to me. I know I cannot fool you like I have successfully done with everyone. Am I to blame for my ‘abnormality’?  When I decided to tell Jack, I wasn’t betraying you, I was sure he would understand.

Why wouldn’t anyone get it?  He should have gotten it. He did not. He thought I was kidding. He blamed me too. He would not listen. I would have taken it from anyone else but him. I really thought he knew me. In ways nobody else did. Yet he thought I was talking about someone else. He has always loved me, my best friend, who I have realized doesn’t really understand me. Why wouldn’t he understand that I could not have a normal life? Why wouldn’t he understand that normalcy was stolen from me back then when my innocence was violently robbed?  

He laughed. He said such things were just stories people made up. They would never happen to my ilk. He said I was being weird. Then I told him I was sad I had ended it with George. He laughed some more. He asked me not to cry but be happy it was over. I do not know what I expected him to say nor do, I know it was not that. Is it so hard to understand that George had done nothing wrong and I had ended it myself because I could never really give him like all the past relations, what he wanted? It broke my heart to break his for he truly loved me. Why was it so hard to work it out?

Should I change my shrink again? Why? When all I ever needed was a friend.  A good friend…

 

How well do we really  know our friends? How well do we know our family? Do we take the time to really figure what they are going through? Do we ever for a moment stop to be there for the people who are always there for us? That may not necessarily be the reason they help us but what do we do for others? There are so many people walking the earth that would love for us to trust them. Some trust us so much all they want is for us to listen to them. All they want is for us to help them deal with whatever it is they are going through. For us to be there. We don’t always have to say anything. If we could only listen. If we could only make them know we care. Are we able to look through the smiling mouth into the crying tears and bleeding hearts? How involved are we with the lives of the people who need us. If only we could observe and not just look. Then the people we love will never have to say ‘help me!’