Sometimes I forget that what happened to me could be considered ****** assault.
I mean, I kind of wanted it
So that makes it okay.
Right?

But I do remember saying no.
And him pushing
Not physically, of course
But trying everything to reassure me that it was right.
If he did things to me, it would make us both happy
Right?

The second time I was sure it was right
He meant what he said
I could see it in his eyes.
He wouldn't hurt me.
Right?
But he kept wanting more
                                                            and more
                                                                                             and more
And kept asking
Begging
Pleading.

And he was so convincing
And persuasive
Saying it's okay if I didn't want to do this, but doing that would be alright.
Wouldn't it?
It's different
It's still good
It's what he wanted.
But giving in would never please him.
He would always want more
                                                               more
                                                                                      more

But I was strong.
Right?
I was so strong.
I mean, you're supposed to have those feelings
You're supposed to want to do those things
You should want to.
You should enjoy it.
At least that's what our society preaches.
*** is good. *** is normal. *** should be a steady part of every good and normal relationship.
Right?

But what happens when a girl just wants to be loved
And appreciated
And wanted
But not for ***
For companionship.
What then?

One by one
I watch them fall
Slowly sinking into the inevitable.
And I wonder
When the moment will come
Where I am completely
Alone.

How would you feel if you only existed when you were wanted?
If she treated you the way you treat me?
If she only came to you when she was fighting with her boyfriend
Or when she needed something?
Imagine if she treated you as if you were nothing,
Ignoring you almost always.
But then showing up randomly,
Saying she cared,
Then inevitably leaving again.
You're always left wondering where she went
Why'd she go
And what you did wrong.
Sometimes I wonder if you ever think of me when you're away,
But then I remember you hold all the power.
You only contact me when you need me,
And it can't ever be the same around.
I am always there for you
The second you need me, I'm there
To make you feel loved, and cared for, and accepted,
Which she never does.
And I never believe the things you tell me,
Like you're sorry, it won't happen again, and that you truly care.
But something inside me just won't ever let you go.
I promised that I would always be there,
and I will.
But why can't you do the same for me?
If she treated you the way you treat me,
What would you do?

Do you know what *****?
Not being good at everything.
I sat down at the piano
To practice for the umpteenth time
Millions of thoughts rush through my head:
My form *****
I can't hit the right notes
My fingers don't want to work together
I can barely read the music
I will never be able to do this
I ****.
I was born to believe that I needed to be the best
At everything I did
To please my parents
And get the recognition I deserved.
The truthful "well done" from my mother.
But there came a time where getting A's is all they expected from me
So when I would get above and beyond 100 percents
I got nothing
No well done, no good job.
Yet my brother who would narrowly pass his spelling tests
Would get commended for his work.
Pushing myself harder and harder to be the best
Every second of every day
Has lead me to be unhappy whenever something isn't to the level I think it should be.
I know that perfection is impossible
And that you can't be good at everything.
But every time I fail
It feels like I'm dying a little inside.
Frustration. Anger. Depression.
I can barely hold it all together.
This pressure to be perfect may seem unbearable,
But it's my way of life.
Without it, I have no idea who I would be.

"You're pretty."
"I love you."
"We should be friends."
Phrases I tend to cycle through every day.
Words that bring happiness and good feelings into others' lives.
Yet, I constantly get questioned why I'm nice to everyone.
Or told that I can't befriend everyone.
Reminded that people will hate me.
But you see, that's a fact I know all too well.
Behind this smiling face and welcoming exterior is a soul that is broken.
A person who has been picked on, kicked around, bullied
Made to feel so bad that tears streamed more constantly than water from a faucet.
Feeling like I would never be loved
Never have true friends
Never be pretty.
There was a period in my life where I had no one.
No best friend to tell my secrets to.
No circle where I felt I belonged.
Sitting alone at lunch.
One of the worst feelings in the world.
Watching everyone talk and laugh and smile.
And wondering why I can't have those experiences, too.
Eating too much to fill the empty void of time.
Gaining weight in an attempt to drown my sorrows in food.
Fast forward a few years.
Friendships have developed.
They enjoy my humor and fun spirit.
Yet no one noticed the hurt still burning inside me.
The fear of rejection.
The sadness of never understanding old inside jokes.
The worry that someday everything would go back to how it was.
And I would be left alone.
Again.
With no one to talk to or sit with.
So forgive me for being too kind, or too happy. Or spreading love. Or wanting to be friends with people.
Because I never want to experience that hollow feeling of loneliness again.