Broken Wings chapter one
I can't believe you left. Was I that bad a person? Didn't you love me? You said that you did. But if you really loved me, why didn't you take me with you? Mom and dad were gone, I needed someone to lean on. I needed you.
I still don't get it. Just help me to understand! When you left you said it was for my own good... I don't think it did me any good. I think it hurt me more than anything else you could ever do would. I felt so abandoned. So alone.
I still do. Even now, as I put a smile on my face and walk down the hallways, waving at random people, I feel so alone. Have you ever heard that expression "I was surrounded by a sea of people, and never before had I felt so alone"? That's how I felt, except I've felt this way for a long time.
I guess you had your reasons. I mean, you wouldn't just leave me so broken for nothing, right? I just wish you had told me why. Why you left. Why I was better off without you. There are so many questions that I will never get the answer to. Why not, you ask? Because the one person who could answer them...
...is gone.
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You always used to call me your angel. Does that mean I'm a fallen angel now? I guess I've kind of seen myself as kind of a ruined angel. And who needs an angel with broken wings, right? Not you, and according to the kids in my class, not anyone else.
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How wierd, I never saw myself as such a weak person before you left. I'd always liked to think I was kind of a strong, independent person...
Not anymore.
No, now I know the truth. Anyone who sits alone at night, and cries and grieves until they can't breathe, and their chest feels like it's collapsed into itself. No one that has to sneak off to the bathroom during lunch to cry to themselves. No one that keeps photographs of what they have lost under theier pillow, and cannot stop torturing themselves with said photographs, cannot ever be strong.
I once read that true strength was the abilitly to keep yourself together, when everyone else expects you to fall apart. I think that's a load of bull-shit. But whatever, no one wants to know the inner workings of my mind, believe me, it's a scary place.
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AN: Interpret this how you want. It's twelve o'clock at night, and once again insomnia is taking it's toll, and I really don't feel like explaining myself. Review if you want.