Hayley told me to post this. So I did.
It's very random.
And it's written in a strange format, but one that is kind of . . . stylish, if you know how to read it.
- 8 - . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Oh, God. Not you . . . not now.
Just go away, Paul . . .
You ask gently, yet firmly.
Suze? Why are you crying?
I - I'm not crying.
It's just the mascara. I think I'm allergic, or something.
It makes my eyes itch. Then my eyes get all bloodshot, and wet. Then I get scared that you'll think I'm crying. Then I fear that you will wonder WHY I'm crying.
But um . . . I'm not crying.
. . . It's the mascara.
Although, wondering what you're wondering makes me wonder. It makes me search myself for something to cry over.
And to my horror, I don't have to look hard.
It's always Jesse that drains my eyes of tears.
Tears are right on the surface. Pain liquefies and leaks from my eyes. My stomach churns with emotional trauma. My heart strings are being cut with callous scissors. My throat burns in unheard screams. My blood seems to turn to icicles in my veins. It doesn't flow as freely. It cuts. I get cold. And scared.
Scared of being alone.
I keep it from you at all costs. That Jesse's gone. That my world doesn't seem worth the effort, anymore. That my heart had been stolen, broken, and not returned. I'm scared of how you'll react.
I told you.
You'll laugh. You'll say you were right. That it was a mistake to ever love someone who didn't technically have a heart to love.
I was wrong.
I KNOW that now.
But there's too much pain to be able to bear. Too much. Pain that I didn't dream was meant for me. But pain that was only consequential, after giving all that I had to him. I gave him everything I could offer.
Heart . . . soul . . . spirit . . . love . . .
But I wasn't enough.
He moved on.
And it hurts so badly.
So press me up against a pillar in our school breezeway all you want, you asshole. Touch my skin. Breathe across my neck. Stare at me, eyes heavy with sensuality and passion, and desire. Whisper seductions into my hair. Try to make me feel.
It won't matter. It won't effect me anymore.
I don't think that I can feel, at the moment.
. . . It was probably my fault he left. I must have done something. Why would he suddenly move on like that? Right in front of me? Smiling. Like he was glad to get away. You didn't exorcise him. That's my only comfort.
Wait . . . No, it's not.
Oh . . . my god.
It meant that he didn't love me.
Jesse didn't love me. He didn't –
My world. Shattering.
He didn't love me.
And it's killing me like knives never could.
You demand to know what's wrong. Why I'm crying.
It's the MASCARA.
. . . You know better.
And I hear such a sweet and precious name coming from cruel lips.
It's Jesse, isn't it? What did he do to y –
. . . Shut up. SHUT UP!
The only reason you ever cry is Jesse.
Please, stop . . . I can't hear this. I need to, but I can't.
Have you ever wondered, Suze, what it would be like to just love?
I don't know what you're saying . . . Paul, stop touching me . . . I'm – I'm feeling. I can't feel. Not now. Not so soon – please . . .
Just love, Suze. And not hurt at the same time. Not be burdened with impossibility. Love someone that will love you back . . . love that's easier than this.
But love goes with pain.
No it doesn't. It doesn't have to. You just chose to make it that way.
. . . Paul, don't. Please, please . . . Leave me alone. I don't want you seeing me crying.
Because of the mascara.
You're pressing against me harder. Your weight is solace and yet, excruciating.
Everything's fine. I'm fine. And DON'T you dare talk about Jesse to me –
It's not fine, Suze. I can see it in your eyes. There's agony there. He's broken your heart.
He – he hasn't – he's just –
What's the use?
You know, now.
Suze . . . I'd never hurt you. Not like this. No one deserves this.
It isn't FAIR.
I can't cry.
I can't feel.
. . . Not for you.
My head was spinning again. Like I would pass out. Dizzy from the love that I had come to know, being torn away from me. In moving on to his next life, he'd killed mine.
You're scaring me. Please, don't . . . I just want you to go . . .
I can't see properly.
I can't breathe properly.
I'm choking on sobs that you can't hear. I'll die before you hear me crying.
Oh, God . . . it hurts so much. It's unbelievable that a person can feel this much pain without exploding.
You're still touching me. Your hands are gently scorching my skin. Burning. I feel hot.
I - I shouldn't be feeling.
. . . But I am.
I'm feeling, all right. Far too much to endure silently.
My face crumples up, and I'm crying.
You hold me into your chest. You wrap your arms around me. I'm crying into you. I'm being protected by you. Held by you.
Loved by you.
Shhhh . . .
I'm crying, hard.
And you know it's not the mascara.