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954 · Oct 2016
lgbt
Maya S Oct 2016
I look into the mirror, not wanting to see.
Who I am, but what I could be.
A girl to the world, a boy at heart.
A girl from the womb, a boy from the start.

"Be proud of who you are"
That's what they say.
But how can I be proud,
When  my body causes me dismay?

"You'll never be a boy."
They shout at me.
"Then I'll never be happy."
I guess it's meant to be.

I come to my room,
my chest stained red.
I cut myself open,
just to see the dead ends.

For I still have a heart,
and I still have a soul.
But i'll never be a boy.
That's all I've been told.
681 · Apr 2016
Book
Maya S Apr 2016
I am a book.
But not the type of book you eagerly pick up and open the first page anticipating excitement and wonder.
I am the book that sits on the bottom of the library shelf, eventually accumulating dust.
The one that occasionally gets picked up, but soon put back down because the cover looks boring, or you think the story will be stupid and monotonous.

I am that book that no one recommends.
The one that is literally forgotten, just waiting to be welcomed into oblivion.
The few people that picked up my book made me hope they wanted to read my story.
But they did not.
They only wanted to rip out my pages.

You all know what I am talking about.
You all know that one book you eventually pick up one day.
Not because you wanted to,
but because you were either forced to by your english teacher, or because you were alone and needed something to do.
I am the book that you cringe when you look at the first page, feeling that it is going to be a long and painful read.
Yeah, that is me.

But then you finally read the first page.
Then chapter.
Then another.
You get to experience every aspect of the book.
The joy.
The loss.
The love.
The sadness.
As you go on, the book turns out to be something amazing.
That book you thought you knew, you never knew at all.
It made you test your mind in ways you never thought a book could.
It made you feel an inexplicable love for it.
It made you wonder why you never picked up the book earlier.

I am the book you think you’ll hate reading.
The book that’s gonna sit here waiting to be opened
and hoping to be liked for who I am and not what I look like.
I am the book that looks like nothing special.
But I promise you.
When you open the first page.
And read a few chapters.
You’ll discover…. Something truly beautiful.
Maya S Oct 2016
I hate the word love.
Not just for fun,
But because the last time I heard it,
it was from the mouth of my last boyfriend,
as he spat it out with such hatred,
and took every breath
from my lungs,
until my faced turned blue.

I learned the hard way.
He never loved me.
Never.
All he wanted to do was own me.
Use me as a trophy.

I was only 13 when my innocence was stolen from me.
When I learned
I love you
meant
Please me
and
I care about you
meant
I'm going to permanently destroy you

It's not my fault I hate the word.
It was ruined for me.
Not only did the word itself ended up damaged,
but so did I

I don't want to be loved.
I don't deserve to be loved.
At least that's what was constantly pushed into my head,
day by day.
I have too many insecurities now,
that I push people away before it can happen to me,
out of the fear of getting hurt

But then I met you

You broke down the walls I spent months building,
and accepted my insecurities.
Although my past experiences constantly try to destroy my future relationships,
You accept me for who I am.

For once I learned
I care about you
actually means
I ******* care about you
and
I love you
actually means
I ******* love you

I don't hate the word love anymore,
in fact,
I want to be loved
Not just by any random person though,
But by
*You
To my boyfriend, because I love him so much.
266 · Oct 2016
11:00 PM
Maya S Oct 2016
"Do you even want to be with me?"
"Do you even care?"
The words hit me like a truck,
knocking the breath out of my lungs, my voice going faint.
I do care, I always cared.
"It seems like you're pushing me away, it seems like you are not trying"
I am trying, I'm always trying
"All you ever do is push me away"
I held my breath, trying not to break down, trying not to show him my pain.
You just don't understand
"You overthink too much"
I do overthink
I do ***** too much
I am an unhappy person
I've never been in a relationship where they actually cared about me
I've always been cheated on, lied to, used for ****** pleasure.
I do not know how to be in a relationship
I do not know how to be happy.
I do not know how to be loveable
I'm sorry I have too many flaws. I'm sorry I was not what you expected.
I'm sorry I failed at something once again.

"Do you wanna go?" He asked after the dead silent, my tears running dry.
"Yeah. I want to go."
Just one of the convos I had with my boyfriend over the phone last night. I was in a lot of pain so I just needed to get it out.
147 · Sep 2018
Tell Me A Story
Maya S Sep 2018
I love you, Maya.
He whispered, the words etching on my skin. His crisp blue eyes stared into mine, like a longing. It made me uncomfortable, a feeling I wasn't used to, the way he looked into my brown eyes, the eye color I always hated, but he stared into as if they were the most beautiful color he’s seen. I told him I was scared to love, that to me loving was the greatest form of vulnerability. He promised me that he would stay, that he wouldn't hurt me the same way I’ve grown comfortable being hurt before. I trusted him. I trusted him. I trusted him.
Maya. I love you, but I can’t do this anymore.
He whimpered, three days before our one year anniversary. My heart dropped, his dull blue eyes staring into the ocean in mine. He brushed my reddened cheeks with his lips, telling me he was sorry and how he will always love me and how we could still be friends. My heartbeat grew slower and his voice fading into an endless stream of things he said. How can you love someone and leave them? How could you make me just a memory? How could you just pretend like the fire we spent months building meant nothing and just let it die? How could you hurt me the same way I've been hurt before? This is not the first time I’ve heard these words come out of his mouth though. The way he said my name was pained, and the name I once loved was now poisoned, alongside every store, song, and friend I've ever shared with him. He’s hurt me like this before, if I don't leave it now, he’ll hurt me again. Whether he means it or not, hurt people hurt people. And he could only meet me as deeply as he met himself.
I stare into his once vibrant eyes. The eyes he once used to look me in with such love and compassion but is now only filled with sadness and regret. It's time to let go. My voice cracks, but I opened my mouth and spoke.
Within these few months it's clear you’ve forgotten what love meant.
But my love was real, and the rules were something that will not be bent.
I wrote this for my Tell Me A Story English paper. It's not the best, but I wrote it with so much hurt that it mattered enough to me to post it.

— The End —