Sometimes, I reach that stage where I don’t know what to do to help you. I really don’t. It kills me inside to see you hurt yourself like that because I know that there is no one that is hurting yourself more than you. The healing too, comes from within, and it is unreachable to you.

It pains me to know that I cannot make a move. The ESFJ in me tears up every time you show me the petals of red wounds. I wonder and I know I cannot understand these sharp scars on you. Maybe some of them bleed still. Maybe they’re closed, but every time, it is torn open once more to reveal the deep anguish that comes from within.

Every time you go into those depths, I try and reach out, I throw ropes to you and try to haul you up from the pit you sunk yourself into. I reached to you a few times, but every inch I pull you up, you drop three inches deeper down the abyss of sorrow. When can I ever be successful to see you smile once more? You try and smile sometimes but it doesn’t mask the hurt, the pain that I have seen in those eyes.

I prayed for the day you would be okay, I know I never will let go. I am convinced that the ropes that are attached to me that still swing carelessly nearing your grasp will remain. Occasionally I nearly fall in, too. I am willing to, but I know that will only result in the both of us being unable to come up. I watch you grasp for hope, until you give up, because you tell me, ‘hope will only hurt you’, it is transient, fleeting, and temporary.

How long more can those ropes hang on? As long as I need to, I will be here, outstretched arms, dangling ropes, please grab on, my dear, for dear life.


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