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Lonely
-Chapter Two-

I don't get it. What did I do wrong? Why are you so angry with me for not being able to read your mind? For not knowing what you were thinking? For not knowing that my words seemed different than they were?

I need you, you know that? You're probably one of the most important people in my life - one of the few who can push me to tears. I cry for you, you know. I cry when you're upset, or when your words cut me.

A knife hurts less.

I cry when I think about losing you, your friendship - your familiar presence at my side when I need....

I admit it, I'm a needy person. I'm co-dependent even, I guess. I can't be alone.

Being alone terrifies me. You know that. You all do, all you who are close to me - know nearly all my secrets.

Yet there are still secrets, things none but myself knows. I will not even write them here and now.

A smiling face, a quick laugh - a stupid remark... is this all I am? There's more to me than that, you know. More. There isn't all laughter. There isn't all smiles.

You ever take apart an expensive looking armoire... only to find it's really made out of plywood? Yeah. Plywood, with a thin veneer of something expensive looking, like mahogony.

I feel like my life is all a veneer. Plywood is my core, and plywood itself is so multi-faceted - nobody could ever really know everything.

It's easy to keep secrets when you've built yourself up that way. I keep hoping someone will look beneath the smiles and laughter - the cocksure bravery. That someone will see me.

There are few who nearly have. They know. You know.

And still, you toss the knife as though this armoire is there simply for target practice.

How many more tosses before the veneer shatters, and the piece is worthless, ready to be thrown away like the nothing that it really is.

Nevermind that the drawers are sturdy and well-made, quite able to keep the secrets that belong to others. Quite able to hold anything and everything placed within it, closing it within itself to hold for safe keeping until it is needed once more.

Nevermind that the closet to the side has faithfully held castoffs, until such things are remembered as the treasures they are - and redeemed. Taken away.

It hurts. I can't stop crying. I trusted you, and stupidly still trust.

But I'm alone. I'm terrified and alone - and though I'm so tired I can barely see my pen moving across this page, the thought of turning out the light and going to bed is far worse than any thought else, but one.

Don't leave forever. I'd die. I can't be alone. Please, won't you stop leaving me alone?

I'm so scared, why don't you know how frightened I am? Why don't you know how much I need you? Why can't you look past this facade of strength and laughter and see the broken person inside - sobbing like tomorrow is only a dream... a nightmare.

I'm terrified. And I'm alone.

I need.

Why can't I stop crying? I'm trying so hard to glue the veneer back into place. Somehow reinforce it against it all. But I can't.

I'm broken. I'm terrified, and I'm broken.

I don't want to be alone. I can't be alone. I would rather cut off my hand, pluck out my eye, and go completely deaf as my tongue is ripped out - than to remain alone.

I'm so scared.

If I lied for you... if I said what you wanted to hear - would you promise not to leave me alone? If I did everything you asked, said everything you wanted me to say - and never spoke unless it was your wish... would you stay?

Would you stop being angry with me... if I became the reflection of your wishes, your demands?

I know I'm not good enough - I was stupid to ever think that. You care for me only because of what you see....

If you knew what lay beneath.... If you knew how weak I am....

Would you be lost to me forever?

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