"Thoughts Unspoken."

But the bulimia worked wonders for the day, though.

I used to love singing. Didn't mind who heard me. One day on the bus, a mean little boy told me that everyone else wanted me to shut up--except nevermind, he wanted me to shut up too.

It took two decades before I could sing in front of people without crying.

I didn't understand that I was getting bullied. Didn't stop me from shrinking into myself, trying harder and harder to disappear.

I'm so tired of...existing, peacefully--but the moment someone says something hurtful, I let it define me.

I'm worried I'm too broken to fix, and it's all my fault. Believe me, I wish I could just "get over" all of it.

Was the audacity I received before I could finish my story, let alone get past the word 'assaulted.'"

to fold into my heart like flower petals fitting between the pages

and preserve in beautiful words that I've written

and paint with colors that will never fade"

When my depression affected you so badly that you took every special memory we made and cast a shadow of necrotic disappointment over each beautiful morning.

Because while I had been so grateful to you for patiently coaxing me out of my head, turns out you were really just wondering, 'why is it so hard for her to get out of bed?'

Then when things took a turn and you were hurting instead, the notion of your emotions affecting me negatively was clearly incorrect, and it was my fault for caring too much--but at the same time, you told me it was never enough.

I wish I had understood these words to be hurtful and cold. I wish I could've seen the way you contorted me into hating the version of myself you'd painted only in your head.

I wish I hadn't grown quiet, sullen, and gray--because I missed the colors, the warmth of your smile, and the taste of a golden peach on a day that felt like sunshine itself. I missed you, but I missed myself more--so I watched as you burned our relationship to the ground, then turning to me and through gritted teeth all the nasty things you could think of to hurt me. And when I finally found a crack in your manipulation tactics, I was able to finally be free.

I wish I had listened to when you told me to leave, not only when you asked me to stay. But after three hellish years I'm finally free, I got away--and I will never again listen to and try to understand someone who doesn't listen to me."