I am waiting. I am waiting for you in the place you left me. Screaming your name. I shout and rave at you. I cry and sob for you. Why won't you come back? Was I not good enough for you? I do not hear the birds singing their sweet laments. I do not hear the kind words people say to me. I am numb. Numb to the kindness the world has to give. I do not hear, see, smell or feel anymore. I am no more than a husk of my former self. An empty shall that echoes the screams of my torture. Why won't you come and save me as you did before? I am still waiting for you where you left me. Where you left me alone in the dark place between. Now I like to sit with the blade in my hand. I like to watch it as it slides through my pale skin. I like to watch as the blood rolls down, staining its way with beauty. It's the only thing I feel these days. The only way I feel alive.
I have stopped crying and screaming now. I do not show feeling anymore. What is the point if you are not here to feel it.
I am writing this last letter to you in the hope that you will find it. I will wait for you in the place where you left me. I will be waiting.