I feel *****, disgusting and tainted.
I’m not supposed to, but I also feel ugly.
I thought I was stronger than you, more powerful.
Better. This time.
I thought you couldn’t rattle me anymore, I had tried so hard to forget you.

But I thought the affection was real this time.
I let myself believe that I was worthy of genuine love.

Me.            Maybe that was my mistake.
If I had only known my place.

Quick fix. Hungry eyes.

When the closest moving thing will suffice.
By love, I thought you meant genuinely real emotion, And not some cheap titillation.
I know I’m worth more than this.
This. I know this.
I just can’t keep telling myself,
Because just as I was starting to believe my own words, you threw me on a sheet of perfectly broken shards.
And now I can’t cry.
The pain, its become a slow, numb sigh.
Don’t get me wrong, I want to, I want to cry, and scream and be angry, but all the rebellion has left tiresome.
Rebellion.
I now find my own fight to freedom some sort of a rebellion.
Like, I didn’t quite deserve it, I still don’t quite, but I think I can fight you, be free of you.

How foolish of me.