She died in that old house
Her soul's probably hiding in her closet, clutching her teddy bear
Or beneath her bed, playing with her toys
In that old house is where she died
You ask me, "What happened to my little girl?"
"She died, Daddy...
and she became me."

Sometimes the person that broke you is also the person to put you back together

To the boy who almost bought me flowers... But the store was closed.
Or he forgot,
or he couldn't choose,
because he couldn't remember my favourite flowers,
or he didn't care.

To the boy who almost loved me well.
The boy who almost made me a wife.
The boy who almost loved my flaws, but just couldn't quite grip them.
The boy who I almost lost myself in.
The boy who almost took everything I had, everything I believed.

The boy who almost killed me.

The boy who almost won the lottery,
until he lost his beautiful winning ticket.

To the boy who hurt the girl who cared so much that she almost forgot
to love herself more.
The boy who didn't think she could wake up and realize
that she deserved more than being
"almost" happy.

Sincerely,
The girl who is almost healed,
almost clean,
almost okay,
completely done.

The last time she said "I love you"
there was silence.

He said nothing.

And with the nothing he said, her world came tumbling down even further than it had already been.
He manipulated her,
He used her,
He disrespected her,
He belittled her.

He hurt her time and time again, but she was so in love with the idea of love that she kept coming back for more.
She didn't care that he didn't care about her.
She craved his touch, she craved his affection, and she would get it.
Only to be pushed away one final time, and realize love wasn't all it was made out to be.

The last time she said "I love you"
the silence broke her.

No wonder she's afraid of saying it to you.

If you're going to break me
At least have the decency to let me know upfront
Don't let some time pass before you decide to do it
Don't let me reveal parts of myself that no one has seen
Not even God Himself and He made me
Don't let me share my secrets to which later you use as ammo
Don't let me tell you my life story, every chapter of it, from then to now
And belittle the struggles I had to overcome
If you're going to break me
Beware of the strength I possess
Beware of the type of woman I am
Beware of my ability to get up from being knocked down
Beware of me doing what I have to
You may cause a few cracks
But you will never break me
I'm too good for that

Sometimes, the best of you is brought out by the worst
After people do their damnedest to destroy you
After they have stabbed you in the back
And shot a bullet through your heart
You find the strength to get up, to fight
You take your wounds...your bruises...your scars
You pick up the pieces and build something  new
And the dents and cracks left over
Well, if you run sandpaper over a diamond, it'll eventually smooth out