you? me?

Would you have let go if I asked for my freedom? Would you have agreed to finally make something out of nothing? To let go of a soul that only yearns to find a physical attachment to the world of today? Nothing would make me wonder more, with my eyes burning brightly and my ears deaf to other noises, than to ask if one such as yourself would let one such as myself go?

Tell me.

Is it not good enough? Am I too old or too young? Too childish? Too stupid?

Stupid.

That is what you call me. At times my heart bleeds when those words spill from your mouth, piercing every fiber of my being, every tendril, every heartstring until all I can do is cower in the ground, clutching my heart with my frail hands, hoping to God that something or someone would save me from my darkest fears.

Your words echo into the night, into the darkness of my mind, into me. They do nothing but bounce back and forth and I have to wonder whether your hold on me is so much that I cannot do anything about it and that my body only follows the words that you utter.

Disgusting.

And again, my heart bleeds until it cannot bleed anymore. All of its life has been sucked out, leaving me pale with fright and insecurity, cringing at every footstep nearing my corner of little security.

Fearing for myself, I know there is nothing I can do but follow. Trying my best to remain invisible as to not be seen or heard so that the pain might lessen. That you'd stop picking on me and let me grow.

I want to grow!

I want to learn!

I want to love!

But with you, chances are I never would. But nevertheless, the dreaming would continue until it is the only thing in the world that gives my bleeding heart enough energy to pump through another night of torture and pain. And in the morning you come again, ready to sap whatever light is left in my darkening eyes.

Haven't you had enough?

Isn't this enough?

Or do you still want to see me suffer, to see me shiver with uneasiness, knowing that I cannot do anything about it?

Of course you do.

You sadistic little bastard.

You want me to fear. To take no steps at all. To stay put so that nothing will ever come out of those dreams that keep me alive and breathing. You touch my face, a smile on yours, but your eyes belie that smile.

Selfish.