Once, you sent me a song that you knew would one day be true. A song that you had no intention of preventing for me. One that you accepted I would take on one day on my own even though you knew the pain. Because somehow my tears and pleading couldn’t speak volumes to you, but music could.
She’s falling but she doesn’t think he’ll catch her
‘Cause her last relationship was a disaster
Accusations everyday she didn’t know why
All her calls would be ignored he’s on his own time
Shoulda ended it before it started
All she ever got was broken hearted
He was cheating on her tryna’ flip it
Back on her like a victim
Now she all alone and starting over
Now she got baggage on her shoulder
But the new guy really loves her
She loves him, but she doesn’t trust herself anymore
If I could quote all that I wanted, I’d probably quote the whole song.
I wonder if karma exists in your world. And I wonder what it is that you could possibly carry with the nonexistent, self-pitying heart of yours.
I carry so many scars. I carry so many reminders, so many triggers that reoccur and send me straight to panicking with a deep knot in my stomach and tightness suffocating my chest.
I am angry. Angry every time I’m happy. Angry every time I’m healing. Angry every time I’m hurting. Angry every time I remember, and angry every time I forget.
I am angry and on days that I am just tired and stuck in my own mind and body, I just want to ask of your ghost to please just let me be. I just want to beg of myself to please just set me free.
I hate you.
And I hate myself.
I hate us for even letting the sound of your name touch the ear of the new person I would love to love.
I hate us for letting him deal with the remnants of your damage, the things I haven’t figured out yet, the things I have no answers to, the things I still tremble at, the things I just wish I could be normal with and talk myself out of, but I just fucking can’t and I fucking hate us.
I hate myself. For being so obvious that I am afraid. For being so obvious that I’m not okay. For being so obvious that I was conditioned to mistrust everyone and everything and to assume the worst in all possible situations. I hate myself for not being able to say anything but sorry because I truly am, to this wonderful person that does nothing but saves me time after time, while the blood of my past bleeds onto him. For someone who came with his own pain, he non-hesitantly carries mine. But I cannot, for him.
I don’t ask things anymore because I just don’t want to know. I don’t want to know what might hurt me. Because like for you, I stood still during so many of the darkest nights learning about one too many things that utterly destroyed and shattered me. Not an ounce of mercy to my soul.
I cannot be the 100 I was before you, for him. All the things I did for you, him. Because of you, there is a broken me. A healing me. A scared me. A hurt me. A distrusting, insecure, traumatized, mortified me.
Until when, will he get tired of me, tired of hearing about you, tired of seeing the way I take two steps back when we fought so hard for one. Until when will he keep trying. Until when will he be understanding of all the things he didn’t do. Until when, will I not know how to ask for help, tell what it is I need, and say all that I just truly feel?
I just wish to protect him from all that we were. All that is left. All that still runs in my veins that I wish could just evaporate.
I just wish to be brave, to believe, to be free.
Maybe I just wish to protect me.
He’s everything I was too young to know existed. I know I could be everything and more. But only you know that me. Only you know all the good parts that you tore before you walked out that door.
He didn’t deserve that. He doesn’t deserve that.
I’m resurfacing and rebuilding that me and a better one. To be everything I always deserved to be proud of being.
“It’s okay even if deep down, you still have a little love for him.” And that broke my heart. Because somewhere, somehow, I was gifted such a soul who cares for me in every way I always dreamed to be loved.