by Little Candy
A prose poem, maybe. Think about it when someone asks for help, directly or indirectly.
Well, I hope you're happy. I'm gone and there's nothing you can do about it. Are you sorry now? Oh, now you're sorry? What about when I cried, why weren't you sorry then. WHY DIDN'T YOU HELP ME WHEN I NEEDED YOU? Why was it so easy to pretend that everything was okay. It wasn't okay, you knew that, but did you care? I believe you when you say you did, but you didn't care enough. Why didn't you help me? Why did you pretend? Pretender. Look where that got me. Was it my fault? Was I supposed to pretend too? Was I supposed to pretend that everything was allright? I'm sorry, I couldn't do that. I was crushed underneath the weight of it all, and you let it crush me. YOU, YOU, YOU, IT WAS ALWAYS ABOUT YOU. ALL OF YOU, I HATE YOU SO MUCH! HOW DARE YOU COME TO MY FUNERAL AND CRY? HOW DARE YOU, WHEN YOU HAD THE CHANCE, WHEN YOU COULD HAVE HELPED ME. WHY DIDN'T YOU HELP ME? Was I supposed to help myself? Was that it? God helps those who help themselves, right? I tried. I didn't want it to be this way. I liked being special, but I did want to be somewhat normal. I didn't want to hurt all the time. Now you have the nerve to say that I'm selfish, to say that I'm a coward. I'm better than all of you. I always was. I didn't hate myself, I hated you. I hated you because you let me hate you, because I loved you for so long. I loved so deeply, I believed so fully, but it got me nothing. When I needed you you ignored me. I thought that love was a two way street, I thought that those who loved were supposed to be loved in return. Was I too much for you? Was I too much to love? Could you not handle your broken friend, daughter, niece, cousin, whatever I am, whatever I was?
"Now I lay me down to sleep
I pray the Lord my soul to keep
If I die before I wake
I pray the Lord my soul to take"