I operate in chaos—
and I’m not talking messy room,
I’m talking messy life.
Calm stresses me out,
probably because anytime peace showed up,
the storm soon followed.
I was doomed from the start,
basically roaming in the dark.
And at the end of the day,
I let you break
my already broken heart.
But you’re not the first,
and probably won’t be the last.
Because I’m still picking up pieces
that were shattered by my dad.
But I can’t blame him
for letting you in—
that was all me.
I loved you
because I thought you could see me.
But you didn’t.
You saw me as a form of revenge,
like you were getting back
at all the girls who hurt you.
And every day with you
was a new lesson.
You were my chaos.
You came when I was at peace,
and you took a piece of me.
But I don’t want chaos.
I want love.
And I want to see
a version of me
who isn’t scared of peace.

im not strong I fell just like my tears for you

They say love is beautiful… But my love came with scars
Let me tell you about this boy I met.
But this—
This ain’t no love story.
This ain’t no flowers and butterflies and hug story.
Nah.
This one got fear inside.
Dark corners inside.

And I still can’t believe it.
How I let him break into my heart—
Brought fear.
Brought jealousy.
He Said he loved me…
But all he brought was sweet lies and misery.

And me?
I was crazy over love.
I believed anything.
And I don’t know why I didn’t stand up—
Because I’m strong-witted, right?
But when it came to that *****—
My armor fell.
My crown slipped.
And I handed him the throne.

I let him break me down.
Pulled my confidence to the ground.
And all my friends hated how I let him push me around.
I had a village—
But love had me deaf.
Turned their whispers into static
Just so I could worship his silence.

By the time it was over—
He wasn’t even human.
A demon in disguise.
And still, I stayed.
Delusion made me feel like
The universe spoke for him.

That ***** told me he loved me…
But he didn’t mean it.

And let me tell you why I’m mad—
‘Cause loving him was like signing a contract
Where my name was written in blood.

He broke my heart,
Threw me in the glass.
When he was done?
Picked me up—
And threw me in the trash.

And now,
Now this—
He can’t take back.

This the funny part—
But it ain’t really funny.
It’s just sad.
I still have all those scars
From being thrown through that glass—
But that’s what I needed.
To show me that love
Shouldn’t hurt.
That pain
Was what I needed to take my final step back.

I rose.
I finally chose
Peace
And not pain.

And I’ll miss you,
but I don’t need you—
because needing you
makes it seem like
I’m not okay by myself.

And I’ve always been.

I never needed another.
I came in this world by myself—
all I had was my *****.
So how could I ever
need another person
to make me happy?

To be honest,
other people haven’t done ****
but give me crippling anxiety.
They made me second-guess myself
and all the things
I ever believed.

I don’t understand
what more a *******
could want from me.

And this ain’t just hurt talking—
this is me
looking back on all 18 years
of this life
that I’ve had to walk
alongside others
who made my walk
nothing but hell.

So I don’t need you her—
or anybody,
the **** else.

I even get more creative
when I’m alone.
So who needs friends?
Who needs you?

I feel like once you left,
I was a flower in bloom.

So I wrote all this to say:
I’ll miss you.
But I don’t need you.

I’m okay by myself.
And I’ve always been.

I’ll be okay without you.

When it comes to you,
I don’t know how to feel—
‘cause you’re my father,
and I love you,
but ****, you put me through hell.

I know they say
you’re supposed to heal
my first heartbreak,
but ****, you broke my heart yourself.

You hurt me,
then he hurt me,
so I had to fix me by myself.

I know you try—
and you’re trying really hard—
but that won’t fix
all the lonely nights,
crying in the dark,
all the unspoken words
from arguments that went too far.

Sometimes all I can think about
is those nights in the dark
and how you were my dad,
but yet you still broke my heart.

And for that, I thank you
for showing me all the things
as a parent that I never want to do.

And as I write this,
my heart bleeds for you
‘cause I don’t know
what path I wanna take with you.

And there’s no ending,
because our story really isn’t through—
but I hope that if you hear this,
you know, I love you.

But yet—
what do I do
when at night,
in my lowest moments,
I still think of you?

And sometimes,
even on my darkest days,
I still think
of what I would say.

And the wind blows
that bittersweet scent
of a hot summer day—
it makes me think of nothing
but the memories.

I think of how
we weren’t meant to be.

And it’s weird,
’cause I feel like
when I think of love,
I only think of lessons.

But this time?
It wasn’t a bad one
I had to learn.

I learned
that we came
into each other’s lives
before we were ready—
and just maybe,
our foundation
wasn’t steady.

And just when
I start to forget again,
the wind blows
that bittersweet scent
that pulls me
right
back…

It reminds me
of the girl
who loved
before she knew how.

She felt as though
she loved too quiet
while you loved too loud.

And when it ended,
yes—it hurt.

But not because
somebody broke her,
but because
they both held on
too tight.

And sometimes I think of how
two souls held on too tight,
because two hearts wanted it,
but just couldn’t get it right.

We tried.
God knows—we tried.

But we were two people
whose love wasn’t enough.

So we left—
not out of hatred,
but because staying
would’ve ruined the memories
of those hot summer days.

I never write about love.
I just write about what happens after.

Because writing it in black and white
would mean it’s real—
and I’ve never had real, no matter how hard I tried.

And let’s be honest,
I don’t believe it’s real.

You can’t force real,
because real is the little things—
the acts of love.

Like showing up without being asked,
loving without being begged,
standing up for you
in rooms where everyone else sits silent.

It’s the way they make space for all of you,
shining light on the parts the world
would have told you to hide.

I’ve never seen it.
No acts of love.
No one showing up.
No loving without being begged.
No one standing up.
No one making space.
No light shining on all my flaws.

So I don’t write about love.
Because I don’t believe it’s real.