Dear August,
Yesterday a TV commercial told me that Pain Relief is only a Pill Away, And I couldn't help but wonder, what if the television is right? Should I down my sorrow with pills the size of tic-tac's? August, I've hit my downfall and I've forgotton how to breathe. On the surface, everything appears beautiful. Or almost everything. August, I'm not beautiful. I've realized that underneath every stitch of perfection rests more flaws than imaginable. He was my prince charming in a plastic mask. I would close my eyes and pretend I didn't see it. I wouldn't see it, August.
I wouldn't.
I remember the day that I almost told him that I hated him. It was here, inside of your constant ball of fire. I bit down on my tongue so hard that I began to cry. It wasn’t the pain that hurt me, August. It was the fact that I knew that love lived in the stars. All of us are too short and too fragile to ever even consider stealing a star, but we have no trouble attempting to steal love. I guess that we were created with a rubric stamped across the door to our hearts. My rubric is much different from his, but yet I had no problem attempting to drag him in. Have you ever heard that two opposites attract? Yeah, whoever said that eats shit.
The world is closing in around me. It is enveloping me, dragging me to it's core. Planning to lock me up forever. August, you are the first month within in which I have realized what I am doing to myself. I have been playing tug of war with my own heart, stretching it out to it's maximum. I've learned that you cannot fix what has been broken for so long. I can't fix him, August. I've fallen in love with a monster, like Beauty and the Beast. Only he is the beauty and I am the beast. I can taste his imperfection now, and it hurts
so
bad.
August, give me a sword without a shield. I will gauge out my flaws, and I will remove the pieces of my soul that I've never wanted to call my own. I see clearer with stitches over my eyes. Within your bittersweet month he has told me that he loves me more than anything, and when I say "Really? More than anything?" I can already tell that he doesn't. So thank you my dear August. Thank you for being the first month in many months that has allowed me to stare right through him. Thank you for being the month where in which I can look at myself and not see an enemy. And even when my eyes meet in the mirror, they don't look away.
Love,
F a l l e n U n d e r L i g h t
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