See me. That's all I ask. Just see me. Don't look through me, don't look beyond me. When you look my way, simply see me. I am almost gone, and fading fast. I will be invisible before you know it, before you even notice. Will you mourn me when I am gone, or will you not even remember me at all? Will I be able to touch you in your dreams, or will you be as closed to me then as you are now? See me.

Hear me. Hear my cries, hear my screams, hear my whispers. Know what I say when I don't know how to say it. Don't hear my voice, hear my heart. Listen closely, it calls to you constantly. Will you hear it, or will you ignore its plea? Do you hear it now, begging for you to rescue it, to rescue me, or do you just hear the silence in my smile? Hear me.

Touch me. Let me know that you are real, that I am real. I am the twilight, fading as night falls. I am the predawn, burning too bright to stay contained. Touch me so I know I am safe, so I know you can hold me to the ground and keep me from flying away with the rising or fading light. Do you feel that brush of a breeze against your cheek? That is my hand, reaching for you. Do you feel that wetness on your shoulder? That is my tears falling as my soul longs for your comfort.

These three things I ask, but they are not the end. There is one more, one final request, which is harder than all three combined to express. It takes courage of the soul that I do not have, strength that I have never possessed. It requires the sacrifice of my life, and that is terrifying to me. The balance, however, is that I do not ask, and only then am I guaranteed to lose the chance.

Love me. Do not lust after me, do not fawn over me. Just love me. Let me know that I mean enough to you to want me. Let me feel your love in your embrace, in your touch, in your heartbeat. Let me see it when you look at me, let me hear it when you whisper to me in the dark. Let your love be what brings me from this horrific place. Let it be what saves me from myself.

The place I am now is dark, cold, damp, dank, terrifying, nightmarish, and never-ending. I will remain here for all eternity without you, and in that solitude, I will find nothing but anguish. I am in pain, and it deepens with each time I give you my heart. I have nothing left to give now, I am empty. My soul is faint, its strength wanes. I do not want to feel this agony any more. I would rather feel nothing for all eternity than feel this constant rejection of the gift of my heart.

I will not survive. I cannot survive. I have tried, and the effort sends me deeper into despair. I am dying from the inside out. I have handed you my heart so many times, still foolishly hopeful that you might accept it as a gift. You do not, though. You laugh, spit in my face, and throw my heart to your feet. Still, I offer it to you freely, my eyes and soul begging you to love me, to accept me, to want me. The tender hope in my eyes shines through the tears of pain, a hope soon replaced with hurt and confusion as you beat me with my own foolish dreams. Still, I long for you. I long for the feeling of safety, of cherished love, of desire. I long for it so much, I offer myself to you once more. What will you do now? Will you laugh and spit on me? Will you beat me again? Will you choose to love me? Will you touch me? Hear my cries, my pleas for help? Will you see me?

Learn more about this author, Rachel Dreyden.
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