remember how you taught me
that pain is proof of my worth?
i always thought it was silly,
but here i am,
one year later,
believing your twisted ideology:
love can only be earned through loss,
pain is the measure of success.
but i’m still here waiting
for my scars to mean something.
i miss that way you made me feel,
the rush,
the chaos,
the fall.
even now i crave the fleeting parts of myself
that fell apart when you touched them,
that frantic, beautiful madness
that kept me gasping for more
even when it left me broken.
because i was yours.
i know i know
it’s all my fault.
maybe if i wasn’t so ******* scared,
scared of letting you know me,
i would’ve stayed.
but then i remember september,
i hope you do too,
because it just proves that we’re unhealthy.
we made each other so depressed.
i think i keep writing about you
because no one
will ever know me like you did,
because i won’t let them.
but that makes me idolize you,
or something.
i should see a therapist.
my summer was fine until you interrupted it!
god, i just want to stop,
stop thinking about you
because i don’t even like you anymore.
things ain’t what they used to be.