![](/sites/default/files/styles/large/public/writer_1.jpg?itok=FcF9Qvn3)
Feelings Unpacked
Dear Anyone Who Reads This,
I have had this feeling for quite a while.
I have been thinking about all of the days that were filled with your shadow.
The main reason being that you were supposed to be there at all of my activities and all of the important moments in my life yet, you weren’t.
I was supposed to be able to bring you my questions about what to do in a sticky situation, or what to say at my high school graduation,
but instead I am haunted by the vague memory that you left behind in my mind.
I feel forgotten.
I feel that you decided I wasn’t something that you could handle, so you dropped me off in the woods to fend for myself.
Unprepared and without someone who should’ve been my example of how to be a man, but instead I gained the experience of Prada purging, and Avon applications.
I feel that I am not enough.
I feel that if I was a different gender, born a bit earlier, or maybe not at all that maybe you would’ve stayed.
Was there something that repelled you from me, like garlic to a vampire?
If there is one thing that I could ask you, its that if you ever decide to show your face, that you give me space.
It’s hard to see what used to be through the dark lines that scribbled you out of my life.
Sincerely,
A bastard in the literal sense.
I feel curious.
I wonder what it would be like if I actualized the voices that have been bobbing around in my head.
Voices that have faces of people that are patronizing me about who I am and what I should be.
Gay, Queer, Faggot, Pussy, and a list of many more that are hard to recall because all it brings are the painful memories of the fake person that I used to be.
Now, with a new lifestyle and lovers, I have to be able to look at myself in the mirror and be satisfied with what I see.
As long as my peers are satisfied, so am I, right?
I feel the brightest sensation when my lips touched yours.
My skin, sensitive to all that you do to it, has a diagram of all the caresses that you’ve left.
Lips touched here, objects other than lips went there, and now I feel like a battle ground of which my flesh and you fight for affection.
If only I could allow myself to be found, instead of curious.
Maybe then I could be a whole person.
Sincerely,
A part of what I used to be.
I feel broken.
I have just been tossed to the curb after a brutal mutilation from people I thought would stay by my side.
I am in fragile pieces that are able to break at even the slightest of touches and yet everyone just keeps passing by.
I feel that I have lost my voice box and that my vocal chords have been severed by the cruelest attacker.
They knew that once I was down I would cry in pain for help.
I have been beaten and broken so that the colors that are visible on the skin became a pointless painting to be hung in a dark room.
No one will see how bad it is, so they appreciate the pain I am in rather than acknowledge the brokeness behind it.
In the end, I lie in the pool of crimson that has been deemed paint, and I let the ducts of my eyes drown out the color of the paint.
Even if I am broken, there must be beauty somewhere, right?
Sincerely,
A disastrous zone of danger
I feel nothing.
In this moment, I am using the sharpest thing I could find to pierce the locations that have been tortured the most and there aren’t many places left to mutilate.
I sunk into the most hidden place in the high school bathroom to leave any remnants of what used to be me.
Soon someone will find that body with all of the descriptions of a murder massacre.
My family will be as horrified as the lonely soul that has to stumble into my body.
Eventually I will be poked and prodded with medical tools to see if they could locate the source of my death, yet I won’t feel a thing.
Sincerely,
A forgotten memory.
Left of the body you found my slip.
It was supposed to be read, not displayed.
I always knew you wouldn't follow directions.
Soon, a series of phrases flashed across the screen and this is what was mildly blurred out.
Hello.
This is a reflection.
What you hear should be exactly what you see.
All of it is a conjumbled form of what I want you to see.
I can sit here and talk about all of the great things that have happened for me and my family.
I can walk you through a blissful day in my shoes.
I can tell of the numerous friends that I have and what makes them cringe.
I can give you a sense of the type of friend that I am with how many coffee trips I make and limitless miles I would drive as we jam to the hits from our Spotify playlist.
I could also spew out lies so easily and make you believe exactly what I want you to believe.
I could get you to have sympathy for me.
I could get you to mourn over a tragic moment that has occurred inside my home.
I could allow your words to smoothly pass over my head as to not taint the pale skin that is unblemished.
I could also make this just a memory.
I have learned the art of refraction and it makes me all the more excited.
I have been taught the skill of twisting things around to make you bend and break at my command.
I have the ability to change you life and mine with a few simple actions.
I have let people know what is lingering in my head.
I have been a beautiful tragedy waiting to happen and my timer is about to sound with an eerie silence.
I can't try to explain why this will happen.
I can't waste my words that were not so precious to begin with.
I can't let you know how or when or where because you will attempt to prevent me.
I can't leave behind anything but what I am writing now.
I am now just a face that won't ever be seen again.
I am a story you will tell your children as to why bullying is wrong.
I am a reminder to the world that our society is screwed up.
I am a lasting, buried memory that no one was able to reach me.
I am gone now.
I am dead.
My pain ended and yours begins.
See you soon.
Sincerely,
The Note That Takes You With It