I had to call the cops on my ex-boyfriend last Thursday:

Stop looking at me like I did something to you.
I have campus police on speed dial, if you do not leave, I will call them.
You need to stop pretending like I did something wrong to you.
I am dialing the number right now.
Look at me. Look at me! Stop looking at me like you're a victim! I didn't do anything wrong to you. I don't deserve this.
Look, it's ringing. You need to leave.
First, you need to stop looking at me like I did something wrong to you.
No. Leave.
Look at me!
Leave.

You feel a special kind of guilty when you have a stalker. You don't want to believe that someone you ever loved would to this. You really don't want to believe that someone you were ever intimate with, or someone who has pictures that you painted for them in their room would do this to you. You don't want to feel vulnerable. And you really don't want to feel that every few seconds, you need to be looking over your shoulder for them. You just want them to leave you alone.

Kissing you is like kissing unicorn horns
It would never happen

I can't tell if you like me
There's a lot put into that
Friendship or love
For me, it's all the same because
Regardless of intentions of affection,
I can't see
I can't tell if you like me
I want to hold your face in my hands
And I want to kiss your soul
But there's a hole in my blueprints
A big hole,
Because honestly
No matter how many dates we've gone on now
No matter how many times you've kissed my forehead
No matter how many texts you've sent or emojis you've emoted
Or how many of my notebooks that you wrote in
I cannot tell
I can't tell if you like me

-E (c) 2017

you didn't fall in love with me
you fell in love with me because i happened to be the only one there

This is an ode to my own self love
Because tonight I forgot who I ******* was
I was looking at a profile with the guy i was on a date with and he said that the girl in the picture was pretty and I asked what about her is pretty and as we scrolled through the pictures he said I like the ones where she looks normal
And when this ******* meant normal
I knew he meant white
He mean blonde haired, blue eyed, perfect skin and white teeth
And I looked at myself I knew I was none of these things
My skin is not white, neither are my teeth, and they are crooked
Like my skin, which is not flawless, no Beyoncé, I did not wake up flawless
My hair is dark brown, almost black, but that's my natural color
I've been bleaching it blonde since I was twelve
What the **** does that tell you
I got my first two tattoos when I was eighteen
And I saw how the girls face had no piercings
And I looked at my 00 gauges and my septum, cartilage, tragus, and second hole piercings
And I wanted to rip them all off
I wanted to scratch my tattoos off
I wanted to take my hair off
I wanted to rip my skin off
I felt inadequate
I felt like I could never be enough
Well I'm tan and unconventional
So that means I can never be ******* loved
So this is an ode to myself:

Dear Ella,
Look at me,
Thick body, with curves that slay like Beyoncé's
Glasses thick so you can see your own beauty
Lipstick dark like the shade of a ruby
And you don't care
You don't care what anyone thinks because you know you rock it
Your blonde and brown hair is unique, no one else can rock it
Your piercings are a part of you, that's why you ******* chose them
The same thing with the tattoos, girl, that's why you own them
They have meaning to you, they're beautiful to you
So what the **** does what this guy thinks phase you
The way you do your makeup is beautiful,
Your style is beautiful
And every scar on your arm is important to you
So don't pretend that what he thinks is more important than what you do
Love yourself, girl, because without you there would be no you

-E (c) 2017