when i was in middle school, i dated someone older.
not that much older, but older.
he was perfect. i told him everything and told him i loved him.
i made him pictures and gave him a crown.
on good days, he told me loved me too.
on bad days, he told me i wasn't worthy nor wanted.

when i was in high school, still young, i dated someone, my best friend.
friends since middle school, we loved each other.
she supported me and held me.
the more we were together, the meaner she got.
i let it go, every time.
she told me that we weren't meant for this world, that we were not meant for happiness.

when i was in high school, now older, i dated someone who liked me.
i was afraid when he held my hand.
flinched when he handed me his jacket in the cold weather.
i was excited to see him.
he waited for me after school by the main stairs.
i was afraid, afraid that he would turn like they did.

now, i'm talking to someone, not dating,
who calls me late at night when everyone is sleeping.
he likes me with my clothes off and when my breathing gets heavy.
during the day, it's like last night never existed,
like i never existed.
and i let him do it.
because i'm not worthy, or wanted, or meant for happiness, not capable of love even when it's true.