At the end of the knife

We expect our closest friends

Our blood to spill

Our life to end slowly

As writers we expect a metaphor at the end of the knife

But some things are bound to get cut

No reasoning, no metaphor

Some things just can’t be explained

But somehow, what’s at the end of that knife

Just makes sense

I looked at you, a sheep in wolfs clothing.

I looked at you, a fragment of what you used to be.

I looked you dead in the eyes and saw the pain and neglect

You looked at me and saw someone you could manipulate

You looked at me and made a weakness out of nothing

You looked at me dead in the eyes and laughed at the built up anger and regret

I looked at myself through the fake tears you shed and saw you and I together

You looked at me and saw someone who you now know you mistakenly judged

We now know we both knew one thing

When we looked again, you were gone.

I am smart. Smart enough to figure out what x equals. Smart enough to become a lawyer or doctor or the next president. Smart enough to have a high reading level. Smart enough to “just have test anxiety” when I fail the test. Smart enough to realize that this stupid label has dictated everything my world is. Sure, I know x equals 86 but why does that suggest that I am now a lawyer. I am smart enough to realize that I don't want to be some doctor or president. Smart enough to realize that not once have I've been asked what I career I want to pursue. Smart enough to understand that I have not once been hugged or reassured when I was one step away from plummeting to the earth and why? Because I am smart enough to figure everything out on my own.

I am smart enough to know that all I ever wanted was for someone to understand the neglect and pain that one word can cause. I don't want to be deserted just because of my brain complexity. So the fundamental question is, do you know who I am?

“Wait.” She yelled. Her voice lowered to a whisper. “You knew her? Personally?” The suspense of the moment hung.

“Yeah.” His voice croaked. “Once, a long time ago.” I sat at the edge cliff staring up at the moon pretending not to hear them.

“What was she like?” The silence was deafening. Some crumpled up copy of a smile crossed his face.

“She was going to change the world whether or not she knew it.”

And around us, the world burned.

Both of them walked back to the others. Everything was silent as if the world was holding their breath, waiting to see how I reacted. I gazed at the bottom of the ledge. Funny, I scoffed. I already changed the world. If you look closely past the thick brush of the forest you could see the ruins of a building that once stood tall. Look a bit closer at you can see all the blood that building had built up in its walls. If you were to look past the surface, you could see an entire war fought and if you blinked, you would miss seeing that I am the way I am because I won a war I fought alone in. But you'll never care enough to see that I did...

You walk the corridors with fear in your eyes and dread in your step. The Reapers can't help but follow you to your classes, holding their sythe in hand waiting patiently. It's strange to think that they are the ones who you rely on, they have now become your friend because lord only knows no living thing will ever want to hang around. Every little thing is now one step closer to those creatures and every little thing is a close encounter with your density. Only when you remember that you must wait one day longer to walk into those seemingly loving arms will you go back to the state your in. One day longer is one day wasted trying to cry out for help. Finally when one day someone hears you, you'll finally think you will see the light. Yet months have passed and you wait one more day till you give up knowing they will never come back. But still, the days tick by and the space between you and the dark light slowly follows. You never really minded it, after all, they stuck by you when no one else did. You wait one more day. As your eyes flutter open you can't help but notice the reapers are gone. You force your self out of bed just as you do every day. This time it’s harder though. You can't see anything but pitch black pain everywhere. You just can't help but think, they only left because death isn't something you deserve. Each day can be described as nothing more than a close encounter with death only this time, death can't be with you for one more day.

It's not every day you see the sky fall. It's every second. When the sky falls on your home causing the walls to cave in. You rely on your friends to push against the sky but they push the very walls that once protected you from the harsh winds of reality straight towards your broken heart. All you can do is play spin the bottle to kiss the wounded parts of you just to keep your hands full despite the fact that they were already over filling. The sky will bend just as quick as your heart will sink as you sit alone forcing yourself to swallow more than you could chew yet the plate you eat off of is completely empty. The reality of her world is completely fine, it's a life those would dream to live so why? Why is the sky falling? It's a question asked that stumps most but the answer is just as simple as the question. Because she doesn't see her world. She sees the truth that others choose to forget. Her eyes are stapled open wide as the tears fall with the sky. The sky only falls when there is no world, no universe that is her own. Things will rise and things will fall but the sky follows.

My brain, intriguing to outsiders yet full of hatred. Not towards others but towards me. It can't help but remember all the bad that had happened to you. Especially when someone decides to stab you. You'd laugh at it, thinking about how much it hurt. It hurt to know that they were just like your outer shell. The one day you needed to talk you went to them. They half ass listen until you tell them how fucked up you are. You tell them less than an eighth of what really goes on and then they say no. They give you small gestures about how “they didn't sign up for this” thinking they are being sneaky. Yet, it is the first thing you notice. Not their blank stares, there “helpful” words but there look of disgust and disapproval. Its simple to tell they don't like that side if you. Then the next time they see you they can't help but say,

“It kinda gets stuck in your mind, ya know, about what you said.” Another way of saying they would rather hang out without someone who is messed up. You leave early and keep yourself from falling apart. It's hard to know they don't love you. It hurts but you'd rather be a loner than continue wearing the mask you painted yourself to hide the bruised heart you have.