The smell of your cologne on my shirt sleeve still makes me melt after all this time

It’s over now.
I left the place with the poisonous air.
The place I once called home.
But that’s okay.
Because looking back,
There are many things I can smile about.

But that is a fantasy;
A utopia that I wish existed.
Because the reality is,
Whenever I do look back at what I used to have,
I realize that there isn’t something to smile about.
Seeing as the entire life I was living was toxic.
And I was just immune to the toxicity.

The fumes I smelled,
The red flags that were raised,
The sounded alarm,
Were the only thing I ever knew.
I didn’t know what existed just outside the walls I built around me.

So looking back,
At that place I used to linger,
There really isn’t something for me to smile about.
Because what I thought was okay,
Was never normal.

I will not go back there ever again,
Despite the ‘happy’ memories.
For I am no longer immune to toxicity.
And I will no longer inflict sickness upon myself,
From the toxic wasteland I once loved.

I want to ******* scream.
I so badly crave your arms wrapped securely around me at night when the nightmares start.
I want you to be the one who dabs my tears away and hugs me while breathing in the scent from my messy hair.
But you’re never there and it’s physically starting to weaken me because it actually hurts as to how much I ******* love you.

You come into my house
Because you saw that the door was open
You haven’t spoken to me since I told you I was done

You stride through the hallway
And see the mirror that I had used to photograph myself in for you
Shattered with sharp shards of glass scattered across the floor

You come down the stairs, into the basement
Where you smell the musty smell from the old carpet
The carpet we used to lie on and laugh together

You peer into my art room
There is red ink splattered across my canvass
But this time, its not paint

This time, it is blood from the sharp glass that I jammed into my body
Because nothing hurts more
Than the way you hurt me

I have never understood people who cut themselves.
Like seriously, what in gods name possesses you to take a blade and slice into your own delicate flesh?
I am a religious girl, I believe that our bodies belong to God and it is not ours to hurt.
Last night, I took a dull blade and scratch my wrists until they were swollen. I scratched for such a long time until blood slowly drew and drip down my wrist falling between my legs in my bathtub.

I’m sorry that I never understood before.

I’m sorry that I never felt bad.

But I understand now.

I cut myself because any other pain other than the excruciating pain I feel on a daily was worth feeling.
The worst part is, I believe that I deserve the scars because my pain is self-inflicted.
I know he’s the very source and refuse to let go.

There have been too many nights
Where I lie beneath my sheets
Hoping you still care

“There is nothing harder than putting yourself back together each morning.”

That is the saddest most true thing I have read in a while.

*******.