Never in my life did I think I would ruin a pillow over someone.
As I crumble into whatever you call what I am now, the only thing there to catch me is my pillow.
As the floods escape my eyes, the mascara rivers destroy my comfort. Leaving me with only a reminder that you hurt me.
That I thought you loved me.
That you exsist. And I can't be with you anymore.
The constant reminder before bedtime or before nap time leaving me with the most painful dreams of when we were happy together.
Dreams of the days I never thought would end.
I hope for the day when I go to sleep and don't notice those stains.
I hope for the day when I no longer think of what I can't have.
I hope for the day where I no longer want you.
But for now Im just reminded that Im the one who is no longer wanted.

I'm sick of being the one everyone takes for granted.
All my life I have been **** on. Constantly by everyone. It doesn't seem to matter to anyone that I might like to have someone to go to every once and a while. I'd like to have someone that comforts me when I feel like I've been destroyed from the inside out. I've taken everyone's bullets for them and they aren't even there to catch me when I'm falling. Or to even pick me up after.
I've always been that person.
I never thought I needed that person.
I need that person now, but I'm sick of being the one who takes everyone else for granted.

Nothing can describe the feeling that courses through my veins, through my head, through my stomach.
I cry and shake and puke over the fact that your body has been contaminated.
The foreign hands that layed everything on you is like poisen that I have swallowed.
Making me sick, making me shake.
My insides explode and I can't handle it.
As my clothes dampen with my tears and wish I could drown in them.
Sink deep to the bottom where there are no tears, no emotion, no pain.
I cry from the hurt, the disbelief, the betrayal.
And yet I do not hate you.

I beat myself up and drive myself crazy with the thoughts of the poisen on your lips and covering your body as you throw it upon yourself and yet I do not hate you.

The daily tears, insults and bad memories are not enough because I do not hate you.

I deserve better and yet you are all I want.

But I wish I hated you.

- the girl who you used to call yours

Not sure why I act the way I do.
It's probably due to the fact that I've lost him.
I don't really feel anything anymore.
All those things that used to mean so much, every person who has been with me so long. Don't mean more than a stranger to me. And it doesn't even phase me.
Everything in my life that has vanished has lead me to learn how to be okay with losing anything.
The one who meant everything is now gone and I can't seem to understand how to feel anything anymore.
No matter how many tears are shed it doesn't matter, so I wipe the rivers from my face and tell myself that it just doesn't matter.
When it did matter.
That was the one thing that mattered.
You mattered to me.
You made me feel how I didn't think I could ever feel.
Without you, I no longer feel.
When I was losing you, each limb was slowly  disconnected from my body.
everything stopped, every part of me lost feeling, slowly I learned what it felt like to lose it all.
Now that you're gone, I no longer feel.
You are gone and I am numb.

Born into lies and raised in confusion,
Unaware of how life is supposed to start.
Tossed into a world where new life is unexpectedly complicated
But it is expected that she grow up not knowing why.

Thinking your mom is the one person who has always been reliable
And only to learn, the ones held closest, have the power to unwind the world around you.
The full spool of your life is being pulled and you can’t help but to spin.
Your existence sloshes, as the giant waves peak and shatter into smaller droplets and you are what is left behind.
Left alone and covered in filthy debris that is inevitable and not your fault.
You are evidence.
The one reminder that everyone wishes would just disappear.

The child of a lie.
This is the only truth you now have.
Thrown into the stream of doubt and untrusting
The stone in the pile of what seemed to be full of gems.
Sifting through the suspicions that have been gathering since before you could remember.
The tides rose to meet the shore but you never quite reach the sand.
Sunken down among the mud while the rest gets sifted, cleaned, and claimed.

I am left with the filth that you have created for me and am unable to skim through the pages and pages of lies in which I have been living in.

I lost myself when the words poured from the top of her head and swallowed me whole.
Drowning every inch, taking every breath.
The black steel barrel and the glossy white casing in which he placed himself has become a Kodak print in my brain.

How could you?

His body trembles from the volcanoes of emotion erupting inside of him.
How is he supposed to handle this?
Flashfloods overcome the grasslands of his face.
They glisten as they empty themselves.
They gaze to you as a last plea, and you have the nerve to tell me?

Stained and impaled for four years, with the knife you never regretted throwing.
Limping through the future with the wound that can’t quite heal.
The third number in my life, almost lost his.
How could you tell me?

The house is overflowing with hostility and you just keep pouring more in.
In public I ignore the constant internal struggles although there is war inside of me.
The four year long war presses on although my heart begs for its end.
Although I may act as a stone, I am not.
Although I may speak as if I am fine, I am not.
Although I may seem as if I do not remember, I have not forgotten.
Although I may seem like there is no wall, there is.
Although it may seem as if the respect might have been regained, it has not.

The burden you were soon relieved of was felt as soon as you happily passed it on.
Only being received by the 15 year old beingforced to hold the plate.
The 15 year old who you treat as a friend.
The 15 year old who was once your daughter.
The now 19 year old girl who still cannot forget.

How could you?

Multiple times you have been taken from me without my approval.
Spinning, black, nauseating.
The foreign hands touch me.
No.

Face in the dirt.
Dark.
Dizzy.
What is going on?
Stop putting my head there.
Swept into your arms I am dead weight But of course you can manage.


Multiple times I have put myself in the position where they can act upon the morals that they don’t have.
He does what he wants.
Stop.
He accomplishes his goal.
And leaves naked in the night.


Black.
You carry me in, knowing what happened.
You look at me straight and I can’t see your face.
This is okay though, right?
Multiple times your morals have vanished.
(no).

You say lets go somewhere else and we walk to the porch.
Bromine, Oxygen, Thymine, foreign to me.
Testosterone.
Stop it.
Testosterone.
No.
Get out of my house.

I’m coming to Nebraska and I’m staying with you.
(No).
Pacing. terrified.
No.

I love you.