I thought i could keep doing this, but i don't think i can. i may add a chapter here and there, but i just can't do it regularly anymore. i met people here. a few people who i talk to and are nice and fun to talk to, but two that i grew attached to. and two that broke my heart so fervently. i just don't feel the passion for any of this anymore. i've been heart too much. this is mike putting his guitar in storage, micky throwing his drumsticks away, peter closing the piano and davy discarding his dancing shoes. i'm sorry. i can't.

She ran her fingers gingerly over the scar on her arm. Almost lovingly. It was a reminder. A scarlet letter. It told her how the world really was and how people would treat her. It reminded her that no matter how much someone may show they care, in the end, it's all too easy to just walk away. It hadn't been that long ago where she'd felt hopeless and alone when a friend came through the darkness to provide a light. That friend took her by the hand even though she tried desperately to cower deeper into the darkness and hide even more. That friend lifted her up and walked her out.

The start of the journey had been slow. She'd been resistant. She didn't want to believe in love and kindness anymore. She'd been hurt and betrayed before. She'd been let down so many times. But by the end, she walked side by side with this friend. She trusted her. She knew this friend would lead her from the darkness. She had faith and hope that she'd be ok in the end. The friend had given her a reason to wake up; a reason to live.

So many times she asked herself why it was so easy for everyone to just walk away or hurt her. There had to be something wrong with her. There had to be a reason why everyone in the end disappeared so painfully. She'd done so much sacrificing for them. There were times she was in pain, but she hid it. She was too afraid to really express it for fear of losing them. So she dealt with it and moved on. She told herself she was being too sensitive. That it wasn't important. She wasn't important. She had started feeling that she was again. This friend had shown her that there was a reason. That all the sacrifices and all the pain she pushed away mattered. It made a difference. She made a difference. There were times she felt comfortable speaking up, but still others she kept to herself. She still was afraid a little. Afraid of appearing too fragile. But her friend showed her that even with that, she still mattered. She started to believe that people would truly miss her. That she was a good person and a good friend. She felt loved.

But as soon as she reached the end of the tunnel, the friend turned around and shoved her back in. Hard. Painfully. She fell back into the depths of the darkness and there was no hope of escaping. The broke when she fell. She'd been battered and bruised when she fell before, but this was different. This time she shattered. She changed. She was irreparable. She was alone. She called to her friend, but watched as her friend just turned and walked away from her. With ease. There was no pain or struggle in her friend.

It was cruel, really. She'd been given hope and given faith only to have it wrenched away. The ghosts of everyone who left her floated around her. Laughing at her. Mocking her. Reminding her that she'd always just end up back here. In the furthest corner of the darkness. Alone. There were those who tried to help her, but she refused to let them. She couldn't allow herself to be hurt like that again. She knew now that hope was false. Love was false. Faith was false. There was only darkness and you couldn't escape it. You could only try to live in it. And even then she wasn't sure that mattered. If everyone in her life could so easily just turn and walk away from her, was she really that important? Would she really be missed? Would it all just be a lie?

The scar on her wrist was her Scarlet Letter. It was what told her every day that she couldn't let anyone else in. She couldn't let anyone else help her out of the darkness. She was too far in to get out on her own. And it didn't matter anyway. She wouldn't be missed. It was all too easy for everyone to forget about her. This mark symbolized her deepest pain. The closest she'd come to killing herself. The deepest cut she had for the deepest pain in her heart. The scar that would never go away, on her arm or her soul.