Anne
My only desire it is.
Yes.
I want to know real love.
Yet it has proven to me impossible that feeling and although I wish it was my choice I have come to accept the fact that it is not. Now. Only thing is left for me to long.
— Shut the fuck up.
You just say gently and towards you. Nobody around you. And you know you did this to us. I only am yet you act and when you act what good have you brought? Let us be ourselves, for I can only be myself and you can only be me.
— Stop it.
You say wishing for me to leave, but truth is I will never for I am you and you know yourself to be weak; you would never pull the trigger.
— Stop!
That you tell me now, now that it is too late. Now that you’ve killed us both. Our only option now is…
— Rebirth.
And you do seem to understand it, after all, all we’ve been through and all you’ve seen. Don’t mess it up with me.
— Why couldn’t I see?
You were blind but now you’re free. And let yourself be free, Anne. It is not but who we are and that we cannot choose. We could never, and even if we could, why change the only anchor we have? You’re me and I am you and every time you’ve tried to change me we’ve both suffered; we’re both and the same yet we’re not at all. For I am you and you’re real. What’s left beyond the world?
— Us.
Nothing but ourselves. Don’t let us die, Anne.
— Don’t let me.
You say, knowing I can’t choose that. Only you can choose to love us and make us free. Free once and for all. The forbidden.
— Yes.
Or so you said when it all became overwhelming.
Oh, my sadness.
Sadness it was and I felt. When you tried to kill us. But now it might get better, for we now lie safe, on this hospital bed. And how we got here I can still remember vividly.
The issue is if you do.
We were crying, we were thinking of mommy. Did we really make her like that horrible? Could we? And amidst all these questions you attacked me for not being what you wanted me to be; I couldn’t be otherwise and that you couldn’t see, not realizing I’m all you’ve got.
“No! I don’t want it” you shouted then; all fun we thought while standing atop the world. The only issue was that I was there, with you.
You’ve never really liked me, Anne; it hurts.
You’ve never really liked your body and so you made apparent every time I could feel you moving the blades. Tearing me open, sometimes fast and others, quite more painful, slow and calculated.
I could never understand why you couldn’t love me and, in that, even hating me and thus, yourself.
It wasn’t the first you cut me and I hope it to be the last. I knew this time would be different when I could hear and feel the warm water flowing and filling the bathtub. And yes, I just wanted to not die. Not now. Not like this. Not by your very own hand
Then you closed the door and, carefully on its foot, placed a wet towel to avoid any sound from leaking if it were to happen that in our own leaking we would make a sound. A careful orchestration for final demise.
This was the first time, I believe, that you suffered more than I did. You though of mom and I fell asleep in the warmth of the water. You numbed me and I fell asleep, then you also did and I thought this was the end.
Then daddy found us.
I was naked and you were passed out. He took us to the nearest hospital. We had lost 42% of our blood and had been unconscious for over two hours; subtly swimming over a warm sweet water we were. You thought that was the end but no.
Farther from it there is not.
We will begin again, we will be great and like the pretty flower that blossoms in the darkness of a cave where no one can see it.
We will.
Life is, for the first time ever, Anne, ahead of us.
Hey Jude.
