"When someone you love becomes a memory, the memory becomes a treasure."
~ Unknown
Cold Hearted
I see the looks they give me. I know what they say behind my back. I understand that they think I don't care. But until they have gone through what I have, they have no room to talk. I stood there, not being able to do anything, as I watched the life get ripped from my Nico. I was the one who watched him go from pale, to a death pale. I watched his lips turn blue. I witnessed his father's cruel act. Taking his own son's life. I prayed to my father to bring him back. I knew it was pointless. He was God of the sky, not of the dead, yet I did.
I guess it's my fault for not mourning in public. I guess I'm the kind of person who hides the tears when others all looking. I remember the time one of Nico's friends called me a cold hearted bitch. I said fuck him. If he was there, even now, he would see the countless number of nights that all I could do was screaming. My pillow got the worse end of it. Or how many times I wished I would die. How I prayed to Hades to take me too.
The depression sucked ass. It made me want to kill myself. The anti-depressions helped absolutely nothing. No matter how many I popped, they could not bring back Nico. They couldn't make him appear out of fucking air. All they did was make me miss my ghost king even more.
So my fucking bad for seeing my boyfriend die. You could put it all on me the fact that his dad took his sole to hell. And it's my own fucking fault I'm a cold hearted bitch. But, I know if I am to let one tear fall, they would never stop falling. If I was to talk once about Nico, it would only shatter my heart more.
So It might me true, the rumor that my heart it fucking black. I mean, why else would it be that I don't cry over his death? I do know what rumor is true. My heart is shattered beyond repair.
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