When I was in 8th grade I remember envying the girls who still got to go home to their dad.

Who gets called princess and actually feels like one when their dad holds them.

Who are brave knowing that whatever comes at them has to go through their fathers first.

When I was in 10th grade I remember crying over girls who still got to go home to their dads.

Who can post fathers of their dad being the best and meaning it.

Who can confidently date knowing if anyone hurt them, their dad would hurt them ten times worse.

Who can be shown what a real relationship looks like.

When I was in college I hurt over the girls who still remembered what their dad looked like.

See, my father is a backwards glance.

My father is a shallow breath already hesitating on speaking.

My father is forgotten.

And I have his face.

For the women with nightmares, bruised hips, fat lips, bodies that are turned into statistics and wrists that are put under a microscope.

For the women who have had the courage to be loud, and for those who had the courage to be quiet.

For the women who seize up when they hear a distasteful joke and for those who spent too long laughing along because its easier to say nothing than to say anything at all.

For the women who sleep with all of the lights on, who don't leave the house after sunset, the women who feel unworthy of a voice, unworthy of their own energy and time, and never mind that of others.

For the women who just want to simply be women without fear, without pain, without their guard up.

For the women who just want to simply be... Me too.

I'm drowning and you're standing three feet away screaming, "Learn how to swim."

People tell me I'm strong but maybe I'm just a good actress I try to keep the show going, but alone I break.

Yes, I break and I'm only a human heartless from the countless others who sworn they stay? Maybe, but human nonetheless I am the master of "I'm fine", so good I'll soon destroy myself.

Nothings fine and it rarely is after years of emotional emptiness you become numb trying everything just to feel something again. I'm tired of bring broken is it too late to be fixed? Its possible that I have destroyed myself beyond repair

Oh how I'd **** to feel fixed for a day.

Its raining. I love the rain, I love the sound rain makes against my window and how it makes me forget about my problems in life. I love the feeling of rain against my rough skin, making it seem softer. I love the smell just before its about to rain, and right after it rains. I would make a candle out of that scent and burn my sadness away. You see, some people feel the rain, some get wet, and others, well others are the rain.

It's 3:43 and I am staring at my ceiling. Thinking. Thinking too much about something so little. I'm thinking about my mistakes. How stupid could I be? I couldn't answer a problem right in math. I'm so stupid. I have math tomorrow and people are going to bully me. Bullies. It's been 7 years of their torment but hey I deserve it. I deserve it. Pain, I deserve pain because im alone. I'm forever alone. No one will ever love me. Ha love. What a stupid topic. It gets thrown around like its my important. I love this, she loves that. They don't love it. No one loves anything. Love is fake. Fake. Fake like my happiness. It's now 4:30, and all I can think is how tomorrow night will be a constant train of thoughts crashing into eachother, just like every night. Every night.

I'm ******* addicted to him. My hands are shaking, my head hurts like hell, I'm sweating, I can't stop thinking of him, I need him. I need his kiss. I can't get addicted to anything else anymore. I tried getting in to drugs, it didn't make me happy or make me forget his lingering touch or his seductive voice, I tried drinking my problems away But I didn't even get the slightest bit of drunk from my moms strongest ***, he is consuming all my addictions, I can't get addicted to anything because he is all I need to be addicted too and soon enough, this addiction is gonna **** me.

I...I love him... He doesn't love me. I am a pawn, in this chess game of love and  he is the player, he decides my fate,  he chooses what I do. He can make me skip school, have *** with him, and if he leaves me and never talks to me...I wouldn't want to take a shower because i would be afraid his scent would wash away from me, I'd stay up all night thinking and remembering the way he would breath, how he would laugh and his smile. I would crave his touch and I wouldn't go to school. He controls me. And I don't know if I want to be controlled. I'm so terrified that tomorrow he will choose that he no longer needs me and I'm terrified he will leave me.

Him* its all you think about
His* smile that makes the butterflies in your stomach go wild
His eyes that sends shivers through you
His voice that makes your knees feel weak
His touch how they are so delicate
His hugs that make you want to never let go and you didn't but he did
Now all the butterflies have died
You no longer feel shivers but pain
Your knees are weak, they don't want to get up or move
You want his delicate touch
You want to feel his arms around you, holding you
But the love has died and even though he has put you through hell
**You will do it all over again