Jealous

I sit alone in my silent solitude, my thoughts as my only company. The world moves on around me, ever changing, ever shifting, yet I remain the same, drowning in my despair. Despair that nothing could possibly dispell. My only comfort is my love for you, a wall that is slowly crumbling before an onslaught of darkness. I am losing everything, these feelings I hold inside, but what can I do?
I love you.
But you...You do not see me. You do not notice me...No matter how much I call your name, you do not hear me. Your eyes see straight through me; your smile is never for me. I am only a part of the background for you, the background on which words are written and then erased before they can be read. I would do anything for you; I would give my life for you.
Laughter floats to me from the main room where everyone is gathered, laughter that I am never a part of. I am never a part of that beautiful group that you find yourself in the company of, no matter how much time I spend with them. Your voice comes to me, beautfiul in its cheer, and yet...I find myself breaking apart at the sound of it, for I know that it will never call my name.
And it hurts so much.
It hurts me every time you throw your arms around one of the others, when you laugh with them, when you share a joke that I can never understand. When you look at me and smile that winning smile that everyone loves then go on to do something else. When you tease me mercilessly, and everyone watches and laughs their fucking heads off.
The knife shines in the darkness, catching the light as I turn the blade to the side. My reflection catches my attention, I always was rather pretty, but this time...There is despair in my eyes. Despair, sadness, and perhaps some regret.
Regret for what I hadn't done or said. Regret that I hadn't done things differently. Maybe if I had spoken more, said what I needed to say, you would...No. Wishful thinking; everything would be the same still. I would still be here, planning the end to it all.
My puppy is worried; she watches me with those big, brown eyes that I could lose myself in the depths of as I roll one sleeve up and turn my wrist over to see the blue veins. I can almost see the blood coursing through them, pumped by the pulsing of my heart, giving life to this poor, lonely person. I trace their patterns with the knife, the knife that I had managed to sneak away from the little cart that delivered us our dinners earlier. No one suspected that I had such a device or that I was planning such a thing; they would not know until it was too late. I stop tracing the veins and sigh; the laughter continues in the other room.
Then...it is done. The blankets and sheets on my bed quickly become soaked in blood, my blood. It flows freely from my wrist; who would have thought that there was so much blood within the human body? It is red, a beautiful red, like...
...Like your hair, freshly dyed.
My puppy is scared now, frantic. She whines and nuzzles my hand, and I scratch her behind the ears lightly like I always do before she pulls away and leaps off the bed to scratch at the door, yipping frantically. She is trying to alert the others, to bring them to me, to perhaps save me. But I know that they won't come until it is too late. Why would they? There's nothing wrong; there never is. There...never will be.
...It's the ones you leave behind who hurt the most.