It was your world baby and I just lived in it

Cruel words tumble out of my mouth when we're face-to-face. She supposedly called my supposed best friend a whore. I guess I'm supposed to defend her, though I think she's a bitch. The first few times they tore through me, eating at my heart. They ate too much, and I quit feeling the effects of them. If I knew years I'd miss you, I would've flipped the other off.
Sitting on my floor a year later, I'm shocked when you reply. You tell me your problems. Why? I hurt you. Please, don't trust me. That makes more sense. Still, you tell me how unfair the world is, how badly they treat you.
July of the next year, I wish I could tell you my problems because I've got a lot of them. Most of my meals are disappearing to places that aren't down my throat. My body is covered in scars. FAT, FAT, FAT, they tell me, and they're right. I know they're right. My supposed-to-be-best-friend sees them. She's not worried. She asks if they say fat or eat because it's kinda ironic that they look like both. It feels like torture, and it seems never ending. I wanna tell you all about it. Many times I pick up the phone, type out, "I need your help," and delete it. Many times while I'm pacing the room, pace, pace, pace, pace, I pass my phone and want to text you that I can't stop and it hurts. I don't, though. The feeling that I have to push through this alone consumes me.
May rolls around again. I tell you, fearlessly, that I've been cutting myself on and off for the past year. All you ask in your message is why and relief fills me. That word makes me feel loved. You want to know why. I tell you, and you don't freak out. You say how sorry you are. That loved feeling disappears. When you knew my other friend was cutting, you threw a fit and worried. My heart breaks. The same reaction seem to come from my mother. It seems that everyone worries for a moment...and then forgets to care. Feeling unstable, I pick up the razor and bring red blossoms to the surface.
In that moment, I realize one thing. I shouldn't have pushed you away.


What Alex Has To Say About This:
This was...hard to write, so I'm sorry if it's confusing. Since I've been reflecting a lot, this came up. I love PB, like you who follow my blog know, but it seems like she's cold and distant these days. I wish she cared about me like she cared about Anna.