when I was five,
my mother told me I was loved.
years later, she emotionally neglects  me and tells me to stop being so emotional
because I am her punching bag.

when I was eight,
my aunt told me she would always be there.
years later, she hung herself in her living room
breaking her promise.

when I was eleven,
I was told to be social, that everybody is a friend.
years later, I was *****.

When I was sixteen,
this guy said I was beautiful.
weeks later, he trashed me, tormented me
because I was ignorant enough to overlook my inevitable flaws.

So, sorry for not believing in you,
for questioning your intentions, inclusively, in-depth
when you told me you loved me because
I didn't want to wind up later on,
learning it the hard way, once again,
that people often don't mean what they say.

I fall in love with the wrong people.
With the guy with a girlfriend,
with the guy that abused me,
with the guy who ***** me.
I  fall in love with men I shouldn't

Because they all listened,
they all made me smile.
They all talked to me like I was special.
They all had "something about them"
because of the way they all looked at me.

Love stories are tragic.
Unjust external force always tears us apart;
our families, timing, school or a ******* excuse.

Nobody talks about a lover giving up
because "I don't love you anymore"
cuts deeper.
The wound of fate no longer leaves you bleeding out
and longing.
Those words slit new veins open from the inside,
fills your lungs, bursts your ego.
Choke on the rejection, die drowning in the loneliness.
Wonder how you'll live without him,
wonder what you could have done.
The blame is on you.

Leaving a lover for your own self being
hurts even worse.

This is the difference between melancholic aching
and soul-shattering, identity questioning
heartbreak.

So don't tell me "I saw it coming"
when the next guy I love
manipulates me or cheats.
I already know.
I choose to fall in love with men
who will destroy themselves,
or be taken but never leave.

As the rain pelts my skin
I try to forget about what you all did
As your foreign hands invaded my body
I regret ever going to that "party"

My friend said it would be fun
That I had nothing to lose
But everything changed
when she left me
with you guys

Your eyes glowed so self-assured
Smiles perfectly polished
Your intentions seemed friendly
But you were all there to demolish

How many girls before me
have fallen into this trap?
Or is it me who will be
alone on this path

Maybe someday you will all have daughters of your own
And get the call saying, "Daddy I can't come home"
Because she is mortified by a choice she didn't make
But was never educated to know it was called ****

For months I have felt broken and battered
I have wallowed in self-pitty
You have all affected every single aspect of my life
Left me with no words
A feeling of constant numbness and anger
I don't know what to do

I feel ruined.

I own a good chin to lift,
a look that threatens from a distance.
Yet the shield I pretend to put on is rusty, shattered, almost broken.

So I walk out, shield up,
and yet
I shiver if i only get a hint of a scent,
reminding me of someone who ****** me without permission.

Sometimes, I forget the amount of my anger
But, if it bares meaning,
I understand it.
Not only mine, but the anger of many women,
who woke up in someone's bed
and left there smelling of a body they didn't choose to smell of.

Don't tell me I should've said "No".
Because sometimes the mouth doesn't listen to the body,
body doesn't listen to the brain,
the brain is not aware of that.

months later you'll be sobbing with the realization that
you're afraid of the man you trust most of all,
your own father,
only because he produces testosterone.

Months ago, it happened too fast.
I didn't say "No".
They didn't give me time to do it.

As I was leaving, eyes clenched to my feet,
hands clenched into fists,
words clenched into my mouth,
I let him hug me as he was trying to make it all seem acceptable.

**** all of you.
I will never be the same.
I will never be able to forget.

Is it **** if you don't put up a fight or scream?
But you said stop,
and they didn't.
But you drank...
you were helpless and terrified.

"It was your choice", they say so heartlessly.
It was not.
"You never tried to escape", they say to me with disgust.
Their words destroy me inside.
I stood no chance against them, and I knew it.

Is it **** if you obeyed?
You wanted so badly to run but your body
wouldn't move
frozen with fear you remembered.
"Why didn't you scream then?" Is what they'll say.

I wanted so badly to push them off me
to run away and never come back,
to disconnect from my body,
to die.

I was encouraged so badly to report it,
"It will give you closure",
"You will inspire others",
"People will think you are so strong",
so I did.

But instead of praise I got criticism and disrespect.
I wanted so badly to come out with this ****,
I was told I would be safe,
I was not.

But I reported it, it's my fault they would victim blame.
They would say since they're so successful,
she just wanted attention and money.

They let it slide because after all,
those boys are so young and talented,
why would we want to ruin their lives?
Yet mine is already ruined.

Dear depression,
I was 11 when you forced yourself on me. You never introduced yourself or even asked to be friends, you just took over my life. My happy days were gone, you kept following me around making me feel unwanted.
I did not want you here.
You grew as I grew, creeping into the quiet moments when I thought I was alone. You made me feel like I was nothing. I woke up looking forward to sleeping again - it was my escape. Yet you made my escape so difficult to reach.
I used to be so happy when the sun came out shining on my skin as I ran through the yard and laughed, with no care in the world.
But that laughter turned into tears, the sun into darkness. My heart and soul cries for help as I try to fight you.
You changed me - You keep me in my thoughts.
I'm stuck in a dark empty place that was once my self, but now it's gone. You left me far beneath my tears. You have taken my life away.
Why can't you just be gone already!!! I do not want you here, I never did! You have taken so much, what else do you want from me?!

I don't want you as a friend anymore. I can't take the constant fighting for my life. You ruined me. You ruined my mind, heart, body, and soul. You come back every time but you never leave. When will you leave me? I write sobbing knowing how much you have damaged me. I want you to leave and never come back.

There's not enough room for both of us.
So may the best one win.

Nobody ever taught me how to love myself.
I was never told to love the way my hair falls into light curls,
or the healing scars on my wrists, hips, and mind.
I was never told to love my stomach, my eyes, or my lips.
I was criticized all my life for the size and shape of my body.
Ever since I can remember I was told not to like myself,
to think of myself as nothing,
to always put others first.
I was never the number one priority and I never wanted to trust.
Even at home, I was told by the ones I loved the most that I was not good enough.

This is where the question originated: do the ones I love actually love me?
Maybe it was just an illusion in my mind,
that maybe they really don't.

I pictured my relationships with my family members as I thought they should be.
I thought that because they were family they would automatically
say "I love you",
support me through it all,
respect me,
keep me safe.
But it's not like that.

It took me quite some time to realize that just because you are related by blood,
all of these aren't automatically there.
It took me quite some time to realize that maybe they don't love me,
that if these things are lacking... it is not love.
It took me quite some time to realize that I was wanting the love and attention that all desire,
yet not all receive.

I was taught from a young age not to love myself,
which led to my thought that I was not loved as I grew older.

Maybe if I was taught to love myself then I wouldn't be the wreck I am now.
Maybe I would have more self-respect and wouldn't destroy not only my own body,
but my mind.
Maybe I would have avoided those toxic relationships.
Maybe my first love wouldn't have been able to take advantage of me,
and neither would have the other four boys.
Maybe I wouldn't have ended up in that hospital,
more than once.

Maybe if things were different in the beginning,
I wouldn't be so damaged now.