I sat there, all alone. Waiting for him to come, and save me. Save me, from this terrible place. No, he didn’t come. He didn’t save me. He left me here, didn’t care. He doesn’t know how bad this hurts. I’ve heard his lies before, “You look as beautiful as the shining dawn.” I smiled at this wondrous comment. Did he really think that? Shortly after we began to speak. Speak about life, and expectations. I could feel it, this was the moment. I replayed his words over and over again in my head, “Beautiful as the shining dawn.”

I will never forget you. You were my first love. I loved you. But, you see, I never heard it back. 2 years later and those three words, ‘I love you,’ didn't pass through your lips to meet my heart.
Sometimes I remember how safe I felt when you took me in your arms. The warm sensation that filled every crevice in my body. With every finger stroke you brushed against my back, it felt as though a you were restoring my every thought of love. The way you held me up into your arms, lifting my feet off the ground to reach your neck. I pressed my head against your shoulder and inhaled the sweet cologne smell.

I dream about us. I imagine what would it be if we ended up together. If you said those three words back. Those little words can change a life, save a life.

Still, here I sit. Awaiting your arrival. The sunlit windowsill filled the room with a soft glow. Disappointed with the joy, I took a glass and threw it against the wall. A crashing noise filled the room. The shards of glass began to shine in the light. Stepping over the smaller pieces I plucked up a larger piece of the glass. Returning to my place at the window sill I lifted the piece up into the air and with one motion swept it in my skin. The blood started to pour out of the wound, and dripped onto the cushion sitting me. The red liquid shot out every direction as I took the glass to my skin once again.

I see it, we are in the school building. He begins to wander my direction; for just a second we lock eyes. Embarrassed, I shoot my glance at something else. I look down, and see the scars peeking through my transparent sweater. Shivers pass through my body as the thought of this seeps into my brain. I looked up once again, realizing it was a hallucination. It was just me in this empty house, on the cushion now covered in blood. Awaiting the arrival of my prince charming. Watching the blood pour out of cuts, that define depression. All alone.