Sometimes "I love you" just isn't enough.

Walking along the edge of those wooden steps. Teetering back and forth on the guardless death traps I secretly hoped would take me. Arms spread wide like an airplane ready to take flight.

I wasn't your average case of "lost without a cause". Still concerned with my image on the 6 o'clock evening news. "Young girl's reamains found splattered across the pavement behind her highschool." No. A classier death would provide the proper escape. Now you see me, now you don't.

I considered killing myself aritsically. Putting on my prettiest dress or romper and taking a fist full of pills. Laying myself out in the middle of ECP. I dreamt of a dramatic suicide. Noose draped hastily around my neck with a goodbye letter tacked ironically to my "Bonjour" shirt just out of extra spite.

It was actually quite amusing until I rememebered the reason the thoughts had polluted my mind in the first place. Would I be missed? I hoped. Was I loved? I knew. I would be cried over and talked about fora couple of weeks maybe even months but like all lost things I would be forgotten. Thoughts of me would be put away and I would be replaced.

You said you loved me, and I believed you, I did. I could see it in your eyes and hear it in your voice. Kissed my cheek and said goodbye. Spoke it once more to make sure I hadn't forgotten. Yes, I believed you, but I love you isn't always enough.

I wrote a thousand love songs and sang them from my heart, but when I said they were all for you, you laughed and laughed and laughed.

I feigned hatred and disgust and anything else I could to keep you away from me. Not because I didn't want you, but because I wanted you too much. More than anything.

I'm afraid that I'll pour my heart out and instead of kisses I'll be hit hard with the harsh reality of rejection. I'm afraid that you'll love me too. I'm afraid that I'll hand you all of me and you'll see that I am broken. Damaged. I'm afraid you'll hand me all of you and I'll mess it up. I'm afraid you'll hurt me. I'm afraid I'll hurt you.

That's why I can't take us seriously. As soon as this gets serious, feels real even a little, you'll have all of me and I can't risk that. I couldn't take having my heart broken by you. It would destroy me. I can feel you trying so hard to get close to me, and I won't let you. Every night I go home and beat myself up, but I never change it. Never change me.

Instead of telling you this (like the brave person I pretend to be) I sit and think of you and I cry and cry and cry.