From Rose.

 

Dear Sharon,

I love you and I’m sorry.

The day I told you I cut, wasn’t the first time

In fact, I told myself that if you were concerned- it would be the last.

So, I walked up to you and said “I cut myself today”

I saw the fear in your eyes, and I saw the need to ask questions.

I’m happy you didn’t, I’m sad you didn’t. understand?

I so desperately wanted to feel safe, and wanted to be loved so much

I didn’t know what else to do, I wanted to feel so badly, I wanted to feel something other than anger.

I was angry at you for so long, and I was angry at the world, at my parents and at every other ‘friend’

I managed to bag.

I didn’t know how to tell you that the harsh words and insults delivered as jokes tired me

And I was extremely fragile, without coming off as overly sensitive- you know the way water is good for plants but too much isn’t and the way sunlight is good for plants, but too much is not.

How was I supposed to convey to you that I craved balance?

How could I have told you, that I hated my body when I exuded so much confidence?

See, it was little things at first, my parents constantly nagging- feeling underappreciated all the time

Then it was the big things, standing in the mirror watching my body parts mock me.

I was so together in appearance; I didn’t know how to be weak.

I needed so badly to break down all my walls, and weep

For the perfection I was and the imperfection I was becoming

I didn’t know till too late, till I needed the pain too much and was hungry for the blood from my cuts

That it was okay, okay to be imperfect.

If it’s any comfort, I found peace and beauty in my cuts, they are my peace scars.

I hope you know that I’m so desperately sorry, but now, the voices in my head are quiet.

I did love you, Sharon.

Your friend; Rose.