I hate pants

““I hate you,” she said venomously. He laughed. “No you don’t.” “I do. I think I really do. I don’t mean I hate the way you laugh a bit too loud or hate the way your handwriting changes everyday. I don’t mean I hate how you only wear black or hate how your voice changes when you’re angry. I mean I hate the way you destroy anything that comes too close to you. I hate the way you feel the need to treat others how one damn person, one single person treated you. It isn’t fair. You don’t play fair. I hate you for that.“ 
He smiled, “But you’re in love with me, right?” “I think that’s the problem, I was fine before you. I was completely on track with my life and now I’m just stupid, just some stupid insanely in love girl who no matter how much I hate you, I’ll still love you and the worst part of it all? Is that you warned me. You said this would happen. You said you didn’t like the person you are. I said everyone loves you and you said you don’t deserve that. I said you do. But you don’t. You don’t deserve love because you don’t know what the hell to do with it.” 
”

“Isn’t the whole point of love, sticking with someone even when times get tough? What’s the point of telling someone you love them if you’re going to leave them? What’s the fucking point of love if you’re just going to let it go?”

““You wanna know the most annoying thing about it all?” She said. “It’s the fact I tried so hard to hate him. I went over what he did to me a thousand and one times. I swore to myself that I deserved better than a boy who one day decided he didn’t love me anymore. I told myself that someone like him didn’t deserve me at all. I fought it for so damn long, I tried so hard not to love him, but then he smiled, and I almost ripped my heart out of my chest and placed it in his hands every single time.””

“Two years from now you’re going to be chucking down 5 shots of straight vodka to help you get the thought of me out of your head and you’re going to try to focus on the random girl whose name you can’t remember. And when this happens I hope you run into the toilets and splash your face with cold dirty water and vomit up the words you wish you said to me when you had the chance. If you take her home I hope the moonlight will keep you awake no matter what time it is and you’ll watch it shine across your bedroom floor where we played and laughed and where I told you I loved you. And I hope the light catches your attention more than the naked girl laying next to you and I hope that when you look at her all you think about is how her eyes don’t shine half as bright as mine used to and how her arms don’t rest delicately on your chest the way mine did. I hope that you can’t escape the moonlight that is a constant reminder of the love you let slip away.”

“She was madly in love with him. And no matter how many doubtful opinions her friends told her, she was completely and utterly blinded by him. He was going to destroy her and she knew it, but she didn’t mind. He could drag her to hell if it meant she could hold his hand on the way down.”

“You don’t know how sad and tired I really am.”

“I will always want myself. Always. Darling, I wrote myself a love poem two nights ago. I don’t know where you get this from but I am whole; woman who grows flowers between her teeth. I tend to my garden. I dance myself out of pain. You think women like me crawl for pity? You ever seen the offspring of a lion eat grass? This wanting of myself gets stronger with age. I host myself to myself. I am whole.”

“Even if you come home late and I’m already asleep, just whisper in my ear one little thought you had today. Because I love the way you look at the world. And I’m so happy I get to be next to you and look at the world through your eyes.”

Nights are full of fear and our homes are broken. Young girls lay in their beds with their womanhood stolen and I question why we are fed lies that keep us awake at night. God, I am calling you again, do you feel any shame? Do you know what it’s like for you body to be broken? Do you know what it’s like for your hope and dreams to be stolen? God, I just can’t understand. Why did you let him touch me that night? Why did I have to wash the blood between my thighs? And they don’t tell you about the shame you feel that keeps you awake at night, the guilt that seems to eat you alive for the way a stranger pushed between your thighs. The therapist tells you that the rape wasn’t your fault just because you didn’t put up a fight. He saw the fear in your eyes and heard your muffled cries but you tell yourself countless times somehow you could of stopped him that night. God, I am full of grief and utter disbelief, how could the world be so cruel? How could you watch him push inside of me? I feel so small. The way my chest aches and the way my hands shake just remembering what he did and all the things my grief continues to take. God, I do not know how to continue my life because I can’t stop remembering every time I close my eyes. I am afraid, I am afraid for all the woman and young girls who will know what this feels like. I am hurting for the girls who didn’t have a chance to grow up before their bodies were stolen. God, this is not how growing up should be, I shouldn’t be spending nights in hospital beds after splitting my wrists open. God, I am calling you, are you going to pick up this time? Or should I cut a little deeper and make a trip to the sky?