I take the knife and press it to my arm, using it to carve my feelings of sorrow and regret deep inside, watching as the scarlet blood pours out. i sense my emotions buliding strong, all that i've been feeling comes pouring out. i wish he coudl see, what he's done to me, woudl it make him see, make him believe, just how much i really mean it when i whisper "i love you"? he might actully mean it when he tells me he loves me too, but the way i mean it, i want him. and only him. to hold, forever. yet when he says "i love you too", he's meaning it in a way much less meaningless than mine. so he must know, must realize, that, i love him.