h e r e

“The only calming thought inside my head is a rather unwelcomed thought. Its always always there & the fact of the matter is, I’m already dead inside. So what is there left to save? A hollow shell of a person whos soul was beaten so badly by the world? Pathetic. It’s sort of comforting to know that when I’m done, I can be done. I am entirely in control.. Of at least one thing anyways. “Suicide is the only thing you have control of in life and that’s why it’s a sin; you’re beating God at his own game.“”

“I needed you like I needed a cigarette. Like tar to my lungs, you poisoned my life. I was only 17 and thought “this is what love is.” It was more like drowning. The bruises you left on my body were nothing compared to the bruises left on my mind and soul. On my 18th birthday, a day for me, my mind was consumed with you. What you wanted, how you felt, what you thought of me. I only needed your approval. Literally and metaphorically. I made excuses for all your “mistakes”, even though mine weren’t forgivable. Even when you cheated, it was my fault. Everything was my fault. I didn’t make you feel loved because I wanted to spend time with my friends instead of you. I was a bitch, I was fat, I was ugly. I had to stop wearing short sleeves. I had to cut ties with everyone I knew because I was either fucking them, or you didn’t like them. You built me up only to tear me down. I was dumb. I was immature. I was weak. If I wanted to go somewhere, do something, you had to get something in return. You felt entitled to my body because we were dating, you werent. When I’d finally had enough, when I finally stood up for myself, you covered my arms in bruises. Locked me out. Even though you were entirely in the wrong, I blamed myself. For everything. I should have done this, said that, stopped doing what I wanted and done everything for you. Now here we are, 8 months later and I finally feel okay again. I can breathe again. I cut my hair, I dyed it the color you told me you hated, I have friends. I go out and don’t have to worry about what you’ll say or what you’ll do when I got home. I am free. I am beautiful, I am loved. Most importantly, I know that I don’t need you. I didn’t do anything, it was you, it was you all along.”

I’m mad at you for selfish reasons. I’m mad that you came into my life and I’m mad that you said you loved me. I’m mad that you’re leaving and I’m mad that I love you too. It’s so frustrating that I met you, someone who is so fucking amazing to me and I can’t even have you. Even though you want me to. I’m mad that I feel this way because you’re leaving benefits and helps you. It’s good for you. And I want to be happy for you. I want you to be happy and do thing that make you happy but I’m mad that I’m being left again. That yet again I’m not someone’s choice. I’m mad that I feel inadequate. I’m tired of meeting people at the wrong time I want the right time. The right person. I want more. I’m mad things don’t work out for me the way I want them to. I’m mad that I’ll never send this message to you, because I don’t want to hurt you. So I’m just going to keep it bottled up inside forever. Im scared too. Very scared. Not like afraid for my life scared. A different scared. That I’m not sure how to describe. And I’m tired. And overwhelmed. And just really fucking over it. But again, I’ll never send this message. So it’s my own damn fault. I’m settling again.