I'm Not Real

Do you ever feel like everyone you love leaves you?

I feel emotions splash over me, ever drifting further down the well. It's a well that I built. A well I dug myself into, and can never seem to entirely escape. Sometimes I can muster enough strength to push myself up. I can see the daylight, and dream of being out in the sun, but I always seem to slip and fall back in. Once again the cold water splashes over me, and I am forced to wade alone.

 

I would like to reach out to you. I want you to give me your heart. It's cold as an icy stone, but I beg. I plead. I always cling to you by your side. I attach myself to you, and you hold my hand, give me your stone heart. Then you yank it away, and drop me. I have plunged fully into the well now, and I'm surprised I haven't broken. There are times in which I come so close to shattering, that I ponder whether I should complete the process. I want to expose myself to the world, but I am always thrown back, like an insignificant fish. I am no prize to you. I am nothing.

 

Sometimes I am forced to see myself as something unreal. It is as if everyone imagines me. I am a useless phase. Whenever intensity builds, I am once again abandoned. I can beg for your ice cold stone of a heart. I can grovel at your feet and beg for the love you cannot give. All I want is to be seen, but I am not real. I am a figment of your imagination. I am the toy who cannot feel. I am the doll that you grew out of long ago because you became too close and the other children laughed at you.

 

So I reach out...I always reach out. I try to touch your heart, I try to hold on to it for as long as possible, but I am burned by the ice. So I sit here, soaked in the chilled water, always waiting for that person who will rescue me. I wait for the one whose heart won't try to break me. I dream about the days on the surface, in the warmth of the sun, where perhaps even your heart will melt. I cry out with no voice, and silent echoes bounce off of the stone walls, once again reminding me of what will never come. Yet I will wait. I will try. I won't lose hope, even when I know my desires aren't realistic. After all, I'm not real. It doesn't matter. It never will.

Author's Note

Comment as you please.