Can't move on. Everything reminds me of him and the love we could have had.
I smile to hide the pain but my cheeks hurt.
I'm going nowhere.
Writing makes things better and only makes things worse.
It takes the pain away and it escalates it.
Emotions getting the better of me.
Hating everything and everyone except for him.
He is proud of himself for getting me all worked up.
And I'm disappointed in myself for getting all worked up over a stranger that introduced me to darkness.
That introduced me to pain and anger.
I wish to stop allowing him to **** me over.
But it's like I'm enjoying the pain.
I enjoy getting hurt.
That's the only way to explain why I still love him.
I somehow found pleasure in pain.
That's the only way to explain why I still try.
I'm addicted to the pain.