Bean #1

dear knife*,

your a good person. you really are. i know enough about you to judge that aspect of your person. i've seen you give me things that no man would ever give a woman. you gave up your future, changed, and fought, just for me. i dont know why your still with me. i dont know why you say you love me. i secretly contemplate on ending whats between us every few hours - not because i dont want or love you anymore, but because i dont think you should be with someone like me. someone who lies 70 percent of the time, someone who cant be straightforward about anything, not about where i am, what im doing, who im with, or who i am as a person. you dont know what kind of music i listen to, i pretend to like your kind of music thinking it would interest you in me more. i start things just to get your attention. to get the feeling of occupying parts of your brain lobe. that the idea of "me" is squirming within your thoughts. i was never like this. i never got the urge to start any trouble with anyone. no one. why you? come to think of it, i wasnt ever like this, not even at the beginning of our little manifesto. we used to talk from the break of dawn 'till the sparkling moon shone down on us, we used to laugh about absolutely nothing, and open up to each other not worrying about any disagreements that might emerge every two hours or so. i miss it, i miss us, i miss the old you. im writing this, with an empty but crowded mind. i dont know what to write down and what to keep lurking inside of me. i like to think about it this way - you put me in this raging mess. oh-no baby, dont raise those perfectly drawn brows at me; you evolved me into the bitch i am now. its un explainable. i cant seem to put these past two years into useless words that will only be read by people who'd just feel sorry for us. its going to hurt too much, but i'll try to spill.

sincerely, scar.

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*knife - a heartless man, whom i'd die for.