You are now my history.
You made me smile.
You made me laugh.
I’m sorry to see you go.
I’m sorry we didn't have our moment.
I’m sorry we didn’t get the chance to try.
I want you to know that my feelings were confusing.
I want you to know I wasn’t really sure what they were.
I want you to know that they were there.
I hoped you would've told me you felt somewhat the same.
I hoped you would have stayed for longer.
I hoped that you had gotten closer.
That our conversations never ended.
I am not heartbroken.
I’m disappointed it didn't last long.
That the butterflies in my stomach didn’t continue to flutter.
I am happy I got the chance to meet you.
To experience your annoying sarcasm.
To get to know the soft side of you.
To get to be your friend.
But I’m not happy I couldn't be more.
The feelings we had for each other were there.
They were so radiant you could feel it through the phone.
I could feel your smile through the way you talked.
I’m sorry I’m your history and not your future.

When I was younger I believed that I was happy.
I believed that when someone touched you in that way it was love.
I never had a family.
Yes I had a mother and yes I had a father but no it wasn’t a family.
There were only glass shatters and unavoidable screams that put me to sleep.
There was no lullabies or calm music.
There weren’t bedtime stories.
There were only arguments that created my childhood.
There was the unwanted touch of a person who was supposed to be there for me.
There were the relationships that were never to be developed.
There was trust screaming and threatening a 6-year-old girl.
When people ask what my childhood was like, I reply with one word.
Okay.
To me it was okay, it was normal for me at the time.
Now that I know it was wrong there was no way to make it right.
The untrust that I had for the world only increased.
I had no friends, I was bullied, I was a quiet girl.
And yet the world asks me if I’m okay.
Am I?
I think I am.
But am I?

Your heart opened up like a newly blossomed tulip.
You took me in like you knew me for forever.
You treated me like I was your one true friend.
But it wasn't enough.
I needed you like the tree’s need sunlight.
I needed you as if you were oxygen.
I needed you to be my forever home.
But yet it wasn’t enough.
I loved you like Bonnie loved Clyde.
Like Harley Quinn loved The Joker.
I loved you with all of me.
But of course, it wasn’t enough.
I wanted more.
I craved more.
You chose not to see the reality.
The reality of my love.
I was an open book to you.
All the feelings,wants, and needs were clearly visible.
Why not take the chance?
Why not take a chance on me?
Am I not good enough?
Am I not your type?
But then you say “I’m attracted to personality.”
Then why not choose me?
Instead, you chose the girl who broke your heart the most.
Who beat you down as if you weren't good enough.
Who was so rotten she spoiled the happiness that surrounded you.
Instead, you chose the girl who wasn’t me.