Maybe it was the days your father was always angry.
Even at a young age, you were always worried about what your father was going to say. Screaming and hollering, the voices echoing in your head. He was never happy, nor could you be. You realize he can't change because he's your father. You wish he could.

Maybe it was the day you lost your brother.
You were only ten, but the loss hadn't succumbed quite yet. As you got older, you realized that you never told him you loved him before he took those pills. That you wished you had done more to stop his pain. But you were only ten.

Maybe it was the day that you had your first real boyfriend.
You thought it was love when he placed his fingers inside of you rather than placing his heart within yours. Every kiss touched every ounce of your body besides your heart. You realize that you never told him to stop. That you wished you did.

Maybe it was when you had your longest relationship.
You thought it was love when he kept you on lock and key. "No short clothes", "No friends", "No one else but me", he'd say. Twisting and turning everything you had left inside keeping you sane. As he would grab your waist and unbutton your pants, you said no, but he kept going. Placing himself into you. You realized that no matter what you said, he wouldn't stop. That you wish you could bury your body so deep into the ground and never live again.

All those small moments of trauma that had bundled and grew into something much larger. Maybe you didn't realize it then, but you do now.

You wish life could just stop. That it could continue without you. You think that the time is now.

Time to make all the distant trauma a forgotten memory. A memory to you, and to those who caused it. For them, it was a small moment in their lives, for you, it was your entire life.

How is it life changes in a split second right in front of your eyes?
Do you decide to continue or start over?
Why did you choose to start over?

Every shift in life has changed every aspect of perception. Contemplating, "Am I doing the right thing?", "How do I know?", "What do I do if I'm not?", or "Am I prepared to make the decision to say..."

I can't do this anymore.
I want to be alone.
I need to focus on myself.
I need to let you go.
Most importantly, I need to let us go.

But what if you can't do these things just yet? Give it time. Time changes everything. And eventually, you will see it too.

You are the main character. Make the decisions to be that main character, otherwise, you're making the decisions as a side character in another's main character story.

Why is it so hard for you to make the decisions that better yourself?
Why do you choose everyone else over you?
Share your trauma, your story, every crack hidden beneath the surface that is so fragile to touch but too pure not to.

C. didn't ask to be C.. C. didn't ask to be depressed and abandoned by her parents. Struggling in school because she didn't own enough clothes. Or purposely dying her hair blonde and encompassing her larger bottom to be noticed by someone. She never felt needed, or loved. Left alone in this world to live day-by-day in her car. Tomorrow is just today. Today is just yesterday.

She is constantly choosing to discover herself, though she thinks nothing will be different.


V. didn't ask to be V.. V. didn't ask to have parents who separated because they fell out of love. She tried to find that love that was once present, but she found other things from the wrong people. Does she doubt that love was meant for her? She tries to find love in people but they just leave. Her father started another family with new children, thinking maybe she never was meant to be noticed. She chose to fall in love with someone who constantly chose himself over her.

She doesn't feel alone when she's with him. He doesn't feel alone when he's with another girl.


Nor did A.. A. didn't ask to have a low-self image and high-anxiety. She didn't choose to have a sick mother with a heart of gold. Or an abusive father who clearly states his emotions. She doesn't show skin, because it reminds her of her past. She didn't eat, she starved, all to lose the weight of her past.

No one recognizes her now. Who would've thought she could glow so bright. Though she fakes it, residing in the darkest parts of her.

Do you not see you're just as important? What makes you think less?
Is it because of your brown hair when you wish it were blonde?
Or your hair straight rather than curly?
Your brown eyes that should be crystal blue?
All you want is to fit in. But life made you different.

Yes, you have your hourglass shape. Your small waist, and large bottom. Maybe that's what makes you most proud.
Your proud of what everyone admires most? Shouldn't you be proud of what you admire most?

But you choose to admire the bad qualities.
Your larger nose, the pointy chin you have, and the way your face scrunches when you laugh. Why must those things be ugly?
Or those embarrassing qualities you label like your laugh, the way you stand, the way you walk. Even, the voice you show.

You're beautiful because you're you. Your brown curly hair dragged down alongside your golden skin. Your honey-dipped eyes when exposed to the sun. Your dry skin that keeps your tone flat accompanied by your oily skin that gives you structure. Your laugh that triggers another laugh, which ends in endless amounts of laughing.

Love is you, you are love.

When I'm older and its time
I want you to wake me
Show me your voice I can no longer hear
Your memory will no longer be alive

Though I don't know why
Show me the reason you left
That was more important than me
Show you all that you missed
Thank you for those happy times alive

Yes, I can't forget the one person who understood me better than anyone.
I can't forget a girl, brunette as I, with the same goofy personality.
Made friends under the oddest circumstances.
I thought it was love at first sight. But maybe it wasn't meant to be.

Yes, I miss you, my best friend. Us against the world.
I can't forget us laughing late at night at stupid things.
Making memories under the best conditions.
I thought what we had was beautiful. But, what we had, is lost.

I always chose you, but this time, you didn't choose me.
Aching in pain, you chose the neutrality while I drowned in the negativity.
Trying to move on from the past of scarred memories.
I thought you loved me, maybe more than him.

He used me, he abused me, he killed me.
I'm buried beneath, he's killed me. And I thought I could live.
But you chose him over me. Your best friend. Your sister.
Do you miss me as I miss you?

I can't recover from that. I can't recover from this.
Yes, I miss you. But, I don't want you anymore.
As he showed me his true colors, so did you. As I drowned in the hues of blue and purple.
Your ghost still haunts me, luckily more than his.
Is that a good thing? Maybe, maybe not.

I died and you chose to ignore the cause. You accepted it, I didn't.
I hope you're happy without me.
Even if this ghost is unhappy without you. I have to be happy without you.

Goodbye, V.